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Book. 



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THE 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



PROF 



. jA-^gi 



LMORE, 



AUTHOR OF " THE CHAUTAUQUA TEXT-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE,' 

" THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND ITS EARLY LITERATURE," 

ETC., ETC. 




BOSTON: 
HENRY A. YOUNG AND COMPANY, 

24 Bromfield Street. 

1881. 






COPYRIGHT, 

1881, 

By henry a. young & CO. 



/Z- -bLoW 



Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
No. 4 Pearl Street. 



PREFACE. 



This little book is, as its title indicates, a *' Speaker." 
Leaving to others the nobler work of promoting the literary 
culture of the little ones, or contributing to their moral 
training, the editor has simply sought to provide them with 
suitable pieces for recitation and declamation. His selec- 
tions are, from his point of view, nothing, if not speakable, 

— and speakable by children between the ages of five and 
ten. It is hoped, however, that nothing which the volume 
contains will, either morally or aesthetically, offend a reason- 
ably severe taste. 

A few of the old favorites are included in the volume, 
since no such volume would be at all satisfactory without 
them ; but it is made up yerj largely of selections which 
for the first time make their appearance in a volume of this 
nature. For permission to make use of these selections, the 
editor gratefully acknowledges his indebtedness to their au- 
thors, and, also, to the publishing houses of Charles Scrib- 
ner's Sons, and Scribner & Co. To the firm last mentioned, 

— the publishers of St. Nicholas, — more especial acknowl- 



4 PREFACE. 

edgment is due. But for their courtesy this little volume 
had come to an untimely end; for a good many pieces 
which seemed to the editor simply indispensable were cov- 
ered by their copyright. He has been accustomed to say to 
his friends: "You can't keep house without St. Nicholas, 
It ranks next, in point of necessity, to warm shelter, decent 
clothing, plain and wholesome food." Hereafter, he will 
have to add: "It is a perfect thesaurus of speakable 
pieces." 

University or Rochester, 
April, 1881. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Baby 9 

Dolly's Wings 10 

I'm such a Little Tot ... 10 

Willie's Breeches 11 

A ChUd's Troubles 12 

Charley Boy 12 

Grandma Always Does 13 

Going to Bed * 13 

Little Whimpy 14 

The Little Angel 15 

Stop, Stop, Pretty Water 16 

A Housekeeper's Troubles 16 

Seven Times One . . . . • 17 

Chimes 18 

The Little Bird's Lesson 18 

Kow I Lay Me Down to Sleep 19 

Wishing 20 

Johnny the Stout 20 

Frogs at School 22 

Old Sol in a Jingle 23 

Mr. Nobody 24 

PoUy 25 

What the Birds Say 26 

The Queen in her Carriage is Passing by 26 

Our Darling 27 

BabvisKing . 27 

Willie Winkie 28 

Selling the Baby . 29 

Planting Himself to Grow 31 

What My Little Brother Thinks 31 

Deeds of Kindness 33 

Buttercups and Daisies 34 

The Child's World 35 

The Orioles . .35 

The Crow 36 

The Bluebh'ds 37 

Three Bugs 37 



CONTENTS. 



Gold-Locks and the Secret 38 

Who Stole the Bird's Nest ? 40 

Three Little Nest-Birds .42 

Frightened Birds . 44 

What the Sparrow Chirps 45 

Three in a Bed 46 

Discontent 47 

Contented John . 48 

In the Closet 49 

The Homely Little Weaver .50 

Making Hay 52 

Chickadee . . . -^ . . . - 53 

The Little Boy's Lament 54 

From "The Psalm of Life" 54 

Abou Ben Adhem 55 

The Way to Do it 55 

Little Chatterbox 56 

Old Ironsides 57 

Lads on the Ladder 58 

The Life-Boat 59 

New England's Dead 59 

The Arithmetic Lesson 60 

The Boy-King 61 

March 62 

The Frost 63 

A Summer Song 64 

How the Leaves Came Down . . ■ 65 

Marjorie's Almanac 66 

Flowers • 67 

Strawberries 68 

The Mischievous Brier 69 

Ready for Duty 70 

The Captain's Daughter 72 

The First Snow-Fail 72 

Little Mary's AYish 74 

The Night Before Christmas 75 

Hang up the Baby's Stocking 77 

One Little Empty Stocking 78 

King Christmas 79 

The Nightingale and Glow- Worm 80 

Grandpapa 80 

Anna and Ned 81 

Thanksgiving Day . • '^ • -^ .83 

A Dream About the Old Nursery Rhymes 84 

The Minuet . 85 

A Fable 87 

Daisy's Mistake 87 

Two of Them ^88 

Pussy's Class 89 

All the Children 90 

Naming the Baby 91 

Pretty Little ........... 91 



CONTENTS. 



What They Saj- 92 

The Family Cat 93 

Topsy-Turvy World 94 

The Parson's Sociable ' . , .94 

John Bottlejohn 95 

Ten Little Injuns 96 

A Little Boy's Pocket 97 

The New Slate 97 

Black Spiders 99 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat 99 

Trials of a Twin • . . . . 100 

The Dead Doll 101 

A Baby's Soliloquy 103 

A Telephone to Fairy-Land 103 

AuntTabitha 104 

The Crow's Children 105 

Victuals and Drink 107 

The First Party 108 

Entertaining Her Big Sister's Beau 110 

Chickens Ill 

Over in the Meadow 113 

The Johnny-Cake 116 



THE 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



BABY. 

Where did you come from, baby dear? 
Out of the everywhere into here. 

Where did you get those eyes so blue ? 
Out of the sky as I came through. 

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? 
Some of the starry spikes left in. 

Where did you get that little tear? 
I found it waiting when I got here. 

What makes your forehead so smooth and high? 
A soft hand stroked it as I went by. 

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? 
I saw something better than any one knows. 

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? 
Three angels gave me at once a kiss. 

Where did you get this pearly ear? 
God spoke, and it came out to hear. 

Where did you get those arms and hands ? 
Love made itself into bonds and bands. 



10 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ? 
From the same box as the cherubs' wings. 

How did they all just come to be you? 
God thought about me, and so I grew. 

But how did you come to us, you dear? 
God thought about you, and so I am here. 

George Ma.cdonald. 



DOLLY'S WINGS. 

Mamma Biddy, look up here, 
See my dolly; ain't her dear? 

Love your chickens ? So does I. 
Wish my dolly''d learn to fly. 

Mamma Biddy, how get wings ? 
Buy 'em with the pedlar things? 

Guess I'se got free cents and two ; 
Mamma Biddy, won't that do? 

Laura Loring, in Wide Awake. 



I'M SUCH A LITTLE TOT, 

They said I couldn't speak a piece, 

I'm such a little tot ; 
That they were little once themselves, 

They surely liave forgot. 

IVe made my bow as prettily 

As did my bigger brother. 
IVe made my bow — you're laughing so — 

I guess I'll make another. 

J. H. G. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 11 



WILLIE'S BREECHES. 

I'm just a little boy, yon know. 

And scarcely can remember. 
When people ask how old I am. 

To tell 'em four last 'vember. 
And yet for all I am so small, 

I made so many stitches 
For mamma's fingers that she put 

Her little boy in breeches. 

You may be sure that I was glad, 

I marched right up and kissed her, 
Then gave my bibs and petticoats, 

And all, to baby sister. 
I never whine, now I'm so fine 

And don't get into messes ; 
For mamma says, if I am bad. 

She'll put me back in dresses. 

There's buttons up and down my legs. 

And buttons on my jacket ; 
I'd count 'em all, but baby makes, 

Just now, an awful racket. 
She's sitting there, behind the chair. 

With blocks and dolls and kitty, 
A-playing '' go to mamma's house," 

Alone, and that's a pity. 

I think I'll go and help her some, 

I'm sure it would amuse me. 
So I won't bother any more 

To talk — if you'll excuse me. 
But first I'll stand before the glass — 

From top to toe it reaches ; 
Now, look! there's head, and hands, and feet. 

And all the rest in breeches. 

Anonymous. 



12 PEIMAEY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

A CHILD'S TROUBLES. 

BY PERMISSION. 

I "WISH I knew my letters well, 
So I might learn to read and spell ; 
I'd find them on my pretty card, 
If they were not so very hard. 

"Now S is crooked — don't you see? 
And G is making mouths at me, 
And O is something like a ball, — 
It hasn't any end at all. 

And all the rest are — my! so queer! 
They look like crooked sticks — oh, dear ! 
Ma counted six, and twenty more ; 
What do they have so many for? 

From St. Nicholas. 



CHARLEY BOY 

O, LOOK at my hat. 

How nicely it suits ! 
O, look at my feet, 

Tve got on new boots ! 

Hurrah, for Charley boy! 

My boots, they are stiff. 

My boots, they are tall. 
And they hold me up straight, 

So I cannot fall. 

Hjirrah, for Charley boy! 

I'll do mother's errands 

As well as I can ; 

I've got on new boots. 

And so I'm a man. 

Hurrah, for Charley boy ! 

Eliza Lee Follen. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 13 



GRANDMA ALWAYS DOES. 

I WANTS to mend my wagon, 

And has to have some nails, — 
Jus' two, free will be plenty, — 

We're going to haul our rails. 
The splendidest cob-fences 

We're makin', ever was! 
I wis' you'd help us find 'em — 

Gran'ma oilers does ! 

My horse's name is Betsy ; 

She jumped and broked her head ; 
I put her in the stable. 

And fed her milk and bread. 
The stable 's in the parlor, — 

We didn't make no muss, — 
I wis' you'd let it stay there — 

Gran'ma oilers does ! 

I wants some bread and butter, 

I's hungry worstest kind ; 
But Toddie mustn't have none, 

'Cause she wouldn't mind. 
Put plenty sugar on it. 

Just lots of it, because 
It's right to put on sugar — 

Gran'ma oilers does ! 



Anonymous. 



GOING TO BED. 

It isn't time to go to bed. 

The clock goes round too quick ; 
It hurts my back to lie in bed, 

And almost makes me sick. 

I want to show my uncle George 
My pretty birthday ring ; 

And sing him "Jesus loves me," 
For he likes to hear me sino;. 



14 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER, 

My dollie, Haddenewya, 

Her yellow dress is thin, 
And she's sitting on tlie liorse-block, 

I forgot to bring her in ; 

I want to go and get her, — 
She'll catch a cold and die ; 

I want to get my nankerchick, 
I guess I'se got to cry. 

I said I'd wait till papa comes, 
I wonder what he'd think ; 

There's something hurts me in my throat, 
I want to get a drink. 

I guess I'd rather get it in 

My little^ silver cup, — 
What makes me have to go to bed 

When you are staying up? 



Anonymous. 



LITTLE WHIMPY. 

BY PERMISSION. 

Whimpy, little Whimpy, 

Cried so much one day, 
His grandma couldn't stand it. 

And his mother ran away ; 
His sister climbed the hay-mow. 

His father went to town. 
And cook flew to the neighbor's 

In her shabby kitchen-gown. 

Whimpy, little Wliimpy, 

Stood out in the sun. 
And cried until the chickens 

And the ducks began to run; 
Old Towser in his kennel. 

Growled in an angry tone, 
Til en burst his chain, and Whimpy 

Was left there, all alone. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 15 

Wliimpy, little Whimpy, 

Cried, and cried, and cried. 
Soon the sunlight vanished, 

Flowers began to liide ; 
Birdies stopped their singing, 

Frogs began to croak. 
Darkness came ! and Whimpy 

Found crying was no joke. 

Whimpy, little Whimpy, 

Never'll forget the day 
When his grandma couldn't stand it, 

And his mother ran away. 
He was waiting by the window, 

When they all came home to tea, 
And a gladder boy than Whimpy 

You never need hope to see. 

Mart JSIapes Dodge, in St. Nicholas. 



THE LITTLE AXGEL. 

Right into our house one day, 

A dear little angel came ; 
I ran to him and said, softly, 

*' Little angel, what is your name?" 

He said not a word in answer. 

But smiled a beautiful smile ; 
Then I said : " May I go home with you? 

Shall you go in a little while? " 

But mamma said : " Dear little angel. 
Don't leave us ! Oh, always stay ! 

We will all of us love ^^ou dearly ! 
Sweet angel, oh, don't go away ! " 

So he stayed, and lie stayed, and we loved him, 
As we could not have loved another ; 

Do you want to know what his name is? 
His name is — my little brother ! 

Melodies for Childhood. 



16 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



STOP, STOP, PRETTY WATER! 

** Stop, stop, pretty water!" 

Said Mary, one clay, 
To a frolicsome brook 

That was running away ; 

" You run on so fkst! 

I wish you would stay ; 
My boat and my flowers 

You will carry away. 

" But I will run after; 

Mother says that I may ; 
For I would know where 

You are running away." 

So Mary ran on, 

But I have heard say 
That she never could find 

Where the brook ran away. 

Eliza Lee Follen. 



A HOUSEKEEPER'S TROUBLES. 

DoLLiE 's wet her 

Feet to get her 
Posies, in the morning dew ; 

Sure to be sick — 

Cold or colic — 
Like as not the measles too. 

There is Freddy, 

Always ready 
Into awful 'fairs to fall : 

Bad as Rosy — 

Doodness knows, I 
Don't know how to manage 't all ! 

Jack or Norah 's 
Telled a story ! 



PRIMARr SCHOOL SPEAKER. 17 

One or fuver ate ma's cake! 

While there's silly, 

Greedy Willy 
Got a drefful stomach-ache ! 

Naughty Bessie 

Tored her dress ; she 
Wants an aver one, I s'pose; 

I tell you what, 

It tates a lot 
Of work to teep my dolls in tose ! 

Anonymo 



SEVEN TIMES ONE. 

There 's no dew left on the daisies and clover, 

There 's no rain left in heaven : 
I've said my " seven times " over and over, 

Seven times one are seven. 

I am old, so old, I can write a letter ; 

My birthday lessons are done ; 
The lambs play always, they know no better. 

They are only one times one. 

Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing 
And shining, so round and low ; 

You were bright ! ah, bright ; but your light is failing - 
You are nothing now but a bow. 

You Moon, have you done something wrong in heaven, 
That God has hidden your face? 

1 hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven. 
And shine again in 3'our ]Dlace. 

O velvet bee! you're a dusty fellow, 

You've powdered your legs with gold! 
O brave marshmary-buds ! rich and yellow, 

Give me your money to hold! 



18 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

O columbine ! open your folded wrapper. 
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 

cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper 
That hangs in your clear green bell! — 

And show me your nest with young ones in it ; 
I will not steal them away ; 

1 am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet — 
I am seven times one to-day. 

Jean Ingelow. 



CHIMES. 



BY PERMISSIOIf. 



Under the tree the farmer said, 
Smiling, and shaking his wise old head : 
*' Cherries are ripe! but then, you know. 
There's the grass to cut and the corn to hoe ; 
We can gather the cherries any day, 
But when the sun shines we must make our hay ; 
To-night, when the chores have all been done, 
We'll muster the boys for fruit and fun." 

Up in the tree a robin said, 

Perking, and cocking his saucy head : 

*' Cherries are ripe! aftd so, to-day, 

We'll gather them while you make the hay ; 

For we are the boys with no corn to hoe, 

No cows to milk, and no grass to mow." 

At night the farmer said: "Here's a trick! 

Those roguish I'obins have had their pick." 

Emily Huntington Miller, in St. Nicholas. 



THE LITTLE BIRD'S LESSON. 

*' Little bird, little bird, in the old apple-tree, 
How joyous and happy and gay you must be ; 
Your life is so merry, your voice full of joy. 
While I am a poor little unhappy boy. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 19 

*' You have nothing to do but to spread out your wing 
And fly where you wish, or to sit still and sing, 
For every one listens to hear your sweet song. 
While I have to study the whole morning long.'' 

''Little boy, little boy, do you know what you say? 
You think I have nothing to do all the day? 
I've a dear little wife, birdies one, two, and three, 
And a snug leafy home, in the old apple-tree. 

'' Sometimes I have naught for my loved ones to eat, 
And then they get hungry and cr}^ out for meat. 
Or, for fear boys should steal them, my watch I must keep. 
And at eve I must sing all my darlings to sleep. 

*' So you see, little boy, we have both work to do; 
And now you must study and try to learn too ; 
Then you will be happy as happy can be, 
Xor envy the bird in the old apple-tree." 

Grace Eddy. " 



NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP 

*' Now I lay," — repeat it, darling, — 

*' Lay me," lisped the tiny lips 
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending 

O'er the folded finger-tips. 

" Down to sleep," — "To sleep," she murmured, 

And the curly head bent low ; 
*' I pray the Lord," I gently added, 

*' You can say it all, I know." 

*' Pray the Lord " — the sound came faintly, 

Fainter still ~ " My soul to keep ; " 
Then the tired heart fairly nodded, 

And the child was fast asleep. 

But the dewy eyes half opened 
When T clasped her to my breast, 

And the dear voice softly whispered, 
" Mamma, God knows all the rest" 

Anonymous. 



20 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



WISHING. ' 

Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose, 

A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring ! 

The stooping boughs above me, 

The wandering bee to love me, 
The fern and moss to creejD across, 

And the elm-tree for our king ! 

Nay — stay ! I wish I were an elm-tree, 

A great lofty elm-tree, with green leaves gay ! 

The wind would set them dancing. 

The sun and moonshine glance in. 
The birds would house among the boughs, 

And sweetly sing. 

Oh — no! I wish I were a robin, 

A robin or a little wren, everywhere to go; 

Through forest, field, or garden, 

And ask no leave or pardon, 
Till winter comes with icy thumbs 

To ruffle up our wing ! 

Well — tell ! Where should I fly to, 
Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? 

Before a day was over, 

Home would come the rover, 
For mother's kiss — for sweeter this 

Than any other thing. 

William Allingham. 



JOHNNY THE STOUT. 



BY PERMISSION. 



**Ho, for a frolic!" 
Said Johnny the Stout ; 

*' There's coasting and sledding, 
I'm going out! " 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 21 

Scarcely had Johnny 

Phinged in the snow, 
When there came a complaint 

Up from his toe : — 

*' We're cold," said the toe, 

" I and the rest; 
There are ten of lis freezing, 

Standing abreast." 

Then up spoke an ear : 

"My! but it's labor 
Playing in winter. Eh, 

Opposite neighbor?" 

*'Pooh! " said his nose, 

Angry and red ; 
** Who wants to tingle? 

Go home to bed! " 

Eight little fingers. 

Four to a thumb, 
All cried together, 

*' Johnny, we're numb! " 

But Johnny the Stout, 

Wouldn't listen a minute ; 
Never a snow-bank 

But Johnny was in it. 

Tumbling and jumping. 

Shouting with glee. 
Wading the snow-drifts 

Up to his knee. 

Soon he forgot them. 

Fingers and toes, — • 
Never once thought of 

The ear and the nose. 

Ah, what a frolic ! 

All in a glow ; 
Johnny grew warmer 

Out in the snow. 



22 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



Often his breathing 

Came with a joke : 
" Blaze away , Johnny ! 

I'll do the smoke." 

'^Andrildothefire," 

Said Johnny the bold ; 
** Fun is the fuel 

For driving off cold." 

Mary Mapes Dodge. 



FROGS AT SCHOOL. 

BY PERMISSION. 

Twenty froggies went to school 
Down beside a rushy pool : 
Twenty little coats of green, 
Twenty vests, all white and clean. 
*' We must be in time," said they; 
*' First we study, then we play ; 
That is how we keep the rule 
When we froggies go to school." 

Master Bullfrog, grave and stern. 
Called the classes in their turn; 
Taught them how to nobly strive, 
Likewise how to leap and dive ; 
From his seat upon the log, 
^ Showed them how to say '' Ker-chog! " 
Also how to dodge a blow 
From the sticks which bad boys throw. 

Twenty froggies grew up fast : 
Bullfrogs they became at last ; 
Not one dance among the lot, - 
Not one lesson they forgot ; 
Polished in a high degree, 
As each froggie ought to be ; 
Now they sit on other logs. 
Teaching other little frogs. 



George Cooper. 



PEIJIAEV SCHOOL SPEAKER. 23 



OLD SOL IX A JINGLE. 

BY PERMISSIOX. 
Hl-DIDDLE-DIDDLE, 

The Sim 's in the middle, 
And planets around him so grand 

Are swinging in space. 

Held forever in place, 
In the Zodiac's girdle or band. 

Hi-diddle-diddle, 

The Sun' s in the middle, 
And ^Mercury 's next to the Sun ; 

While Yenus, so bright. 

Seen at morning or night, 
Comes second, to join in the fun. 

Hi-diddle-diddle, 

The Sun 's in the middle. 
And tJiird in the group is our Earth; 

While ]\Iars with his fire, 

So warlike and dire. 
Swings round to be counted the fourth', 

Hi-diddle-diddle, 

The Sun 's in the middle, 
While Jupiter 'c next after Mars, — 

And his four moons at night. 

Show the speed of the light ; 
Next, golden-ringed Satui'n appears. 

Hi-diddle-diddle, 

The Sun 's in the middle. 
After Saturn comes Uranus far ; — 

And his antics so queer. 

Led astronomers near 
To old Xeptune, who dri^'es the last car. 

Mes. E. p. ^Millee, IX MoTHEE Teuth's ^Melodies. 



24 PEIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



MR. NOBODY. 

I KNOW a fnnny little man. 

As quiet as a mouse. 
Who does the mischief that is done, 

In everybody's house. 
There's no one ever sees his face. 

And yet we all agree, 
That every plate we break, was cracked 

By Mr. Nobody. 

'Tis he who always tears our books, — 

Who leaves the door ajar; 
He pulls the buttons from our shirts. 

And scatters pins afar. 
That squeaking door will always squeak. 

For, prithee, don't you see. 
We leave the oiling to be done 

By Mr. Nobody? 

He puts damp wood upon the fire. 

That kettles cannot boil ; 
His are the feet that bring in mud. 

And all the carpets soil. 
The i>apers always are mislaid ; 

Who had them last but he ? 
There's no one tosses them about. 

But Mr. Nobody. 

The finger-marks upon the door 

By none of us are made ; 
We never leave the blinds unclosed. 

To let the curtains fade. 
The ink we never spill ; the boots 

That lying round you see, 
Are not our boots ! They all belong 

To Mr. Nobody! 

Riverside Magazine. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 25 



POLLY. 

Brown eyes, straight nose ; 
Dirt pies, rumpled clothes ; 

Torn books, spoilt toys ; 
Arch looks, unlike a boy's ; 

Little rages, obvious arts ; 
(Three her age is), cakes, tarts ;' 

Falling down off chairs ; 
Breaking crown down stairs ; 

Catching flies on tlie pane ; 
Deep sighs — cause not plain; 

Bribing you with kisses. 
For a few farthing bhsses. 

Wide-awake ; as you hear, 
*' Mercy's sake, quiet, dear! " 

New slioes, new frock ; 
Vague views of what's o'clock 

When it's time to go to bed, 

And scorn sublime for what's said. 

Folded hands saying prayers ; 
Understands not, nor cares ; 

Thinks it odd ; smiles away ; 
Yet may God hear her pray ! 

Bed-gown white ; kiss Dolly ; 
Good-night! that's Polly. 

Fast asleep, as you see ; 
Heaven keep my girl for me ! 

LiLLiPUT Levee. 



26 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



WHAT THE BIRDS SAY. 

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, 

The linnet, and thrush say, '' I love and I love! " 

In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong ; 

What it says I don't know, bnt it sings a loud song. 

But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny, warm weather, 

And singing and loving, all come back together. 

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, 

The green fields below him, the blue sky above. 

That he sings and he sings, and for ever sings he, 

*'I love my love, and my love loves me." 

Coleridge. 



THE QUEEN IN HER CARRIAGE IS 

PASSING BY. 

Oh, the queen in her carriage is passing by ; 
Her cheeks are like roses, her eyes like the sky : 
Her wonderful teeth are white as new milk ; 
Her pretty blonde hair is softer than silk. 

She^s the loveliest monarch that ever was seen; 
You ask of what country the darling is queen; 
Her empire extends not to far-distant parts, 
She is queen of the household, the mistress of hearts. 

For sceptre she lifts her soft, dimpled hands ; 
Her subjects all hasten to heed her commands ; 
Her smile is bewitching, and fearful her frown, 
And all must obey when she puts her foot down. 

May blessings descend on the bright little head, 
From the time she awakes till she's safely in bed. 
And now do you guess, when I speak of the queen, 
'Tis only our six months' baby I mean.^ 

Anonymous. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 27 



OUR darli:n"g. 

Bounding like a foot-ball, 

Kicking at the door ; 
Falling from the table-top, 

Sprawling on the floor ; 
Smashing cups and saucers, 

Splitting dolly's head ; 
Putting little pussy-cat 

Into baby's bed. 

Building shops and houses. 

Spoiling father's hat, 
Hiding mother's precious keys 

Underneath the mat ; 
Jumping on the fender, 

Poking at the fire, 
Dancing on his little legs — 

Legs that never tire. 

Making mother's heart leap 

Fifty times a day ; 
Aping everytJiing we do. 

Every word we say. 
Shouting, laughing, tumbling, 

Roaring with a will, 
Anyw^here and everywdiere, 

Never, never still. 

Present — bringing sunshine ; 

Absent — leaving night ; 
That's our precious darling, 

That's our heart's delight. 

]^LiTTHiAS Bare. 



BABY IS KING. 

A KOSE-CURTAIXED cradle, wdiere, nestled within 
Soft cambric and flannel, lie pounds seventeen ; 
'Tis the throne of a tyrant ; that pink little thing 
Is an autocrat regal — for Baby is king. 



28 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Good, solemn grandfather dares hardly to speak, 

Or walk, lest the sleeper should hear his boots creak; 

Grandma is a martyr in habits and cap, 

Which the monarch unsettles as well as her nap. 

Papa — wise and mighty — just entered the house, 
Grows meek on the threshold, and moves like a mouse 
To stare at the bundle, then outward he goes, 
Like an elephant trying to walk on its toes. 

The queen of the ball-room throws loyally down 
Before him the roses she wore in her crown, 
And sings little love-songs of whom site loves best: 
He cries when she stops, like a merciless pest. 

He flings right and left his saucy fat fist, 
And then the next moment expects to be kissed; 
He demands people's watches to batter about, 
And meets a refusal with struggle and shout. 

Then failing to conquer, with passionate cry 
He quivers his lip, keeps a tear in his eye. 
And so wins tiie battle — this wise little thing! 
He knows the world over, that Baby is king. 

Anonymous. 



WILLIE WINKIE. 

Wee Willie Winkie 

Runs through the town, 
Up-stairs and down-stairs 

In his night-gown ; 
Tapping at the window, 

Crying at the lock : 
"Are the weans in their bed? 

For it's now ten o'clock." 

"Hey! Willie Winkie, 
Are you coming then ?- 

The cat's singing purrie 
To the sleeping hen ; 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 29 

The dog is lying on the floor, 

And does not even peep; 
But here's a wakeful laddie 

That will not fall asleep." 

Anything but sleep, you rogue ! 

Glowering like the moon ; 
Rattling like an iron jug 

With an iron spoon ; 
Rumbling, tumbling all about. 

Crowing like a cock, 
Screaming like I don't know what, 

Waking sleeping folk. 

*'Hey! Willie Winkie, 

Can't you keep him still? 
Wriggling off a body's knee 

Like a very eel ; 
Pulling at the cat's ear. 

As she drowsy hums — 
Heigh! Willie Winkie! 

See ! — there he comes ! " 

Wearied is the mother 

That has a restless wean ; 
A wee, stumpy bairnie. 

Heard whene'er he's seen, — 
That has a battle aye with sleep 

Before he'll close an e'e ; 
But a kiss from off his rosy lips 

Gives strength anew to me. 

William Miller. 



SELLING THE BABY. 

Robbie's sold the baby! 

Sold her out and out ! 
And I'll have to tell you 

How it came about. 



30 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER, 

When on New Year's morning 
Robbie's opening eyes 

Spied the brand-new baby, — 
What a glad surprise ! 

Constantly he watched her, 
Scarcely cared to play. 

Lest the precious baby 
Should be snatched away. 

"Now, he's gone and sold her! 

For to-day he ran 
And proclaimed to mamma, 

"Yes, I've found a man! 

*' Here's the man '11 buy her! 

Get her ready, krick ! " 
With an air of business. 

Brandishing a stick. 

** Sold my baby, Robbie? " 
Mamma sadly said ; 

Robbie, quite decided, 
Bobbed his little head. 

** Well, if this man buys her, 
What will he give you?" 

** Oh, two nice big horses. 
And five pennies, too! 

"What's the good of babies? 

Only 'queal and 'cream! 
I can go horse-backin' 

When I get my team." 

But when quiet night came, 
Robbie's prayers were said. 

And he looked at baby 
In her little bed. 

And he said, when baby 

Smiled in some sweet dream, 

"She's wurf forty horses, 
'Stead of jess a team!" 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 31 

Baby's wee pink fingers 

Round his own he curled : 
" She's wnrf all the horses 

In dis whole big world ! " 

The Home Garden. 



PLAXTIXG HIMSELF TO GROAY. 

Dear little bnght-eyed "Willie, 

Always so full of glee, 
Always so very mischievous, 

The pride of our home is he. 

One bright summer-day we found him, 

Close by the garden wall, 
Standing so grave and dignified, 

Beside a sunflower tall. 

His tiny feet he had covered 

With the moist and cooling sand ; 

The stalk of the great, tall sunflower 
He grasped with his chubby hand. 

When he saAV us, standing near him, 

Gazing so wonderingly 
At his babyship, he greeted us 

With a merry shout of glee. 

We asked our darling what pleased him ; 

He replied, wi^.h a face aglow, 
** Mamma, I'm going to be a man ; 

Fve planted myself to grow! " 

Anonymous. 



WHAT MY LITTLE BROTHER THIXKS. 

BY PERMISSION. 

My little brother is — oh, so funny! 
He thinks that a king is made of money ; 
He thinks little cherubs, overhead, 
Hold up the stars to light us to bed. 



32 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

He thinks that near those cherubs, but under, 
Are other cherubs, who cause the thunder ; 
They roll great tables and chairs around, 
And growl and roar with an awful sound. 

He thinks some quick little cherub scratches, 
To make the lightning, a million matches ; 
Another carries a watering-pot, 
To wet the earth when it gets too hot. 

He thinks — my brother is, oh, so knowing! — 
A feather-bed cherub does all the snowing ; 
He thinks the feathers come sailing down. 
And make the snow that whitens the town. 

He thinks that a painted mask can eat him ; 
Or pull his hair ; or chase and beat him. 
Yes, really thinks a mask is alive! 
But my little brother is only five. 

He thinks little fairies make the clamor 
In grandpa's watch, with a tiny hammer. 
He thinks some fairies can live in a book ; 
Or dance in kettles to frighten the cook. 

He thinks the grasshoppers bring molasses; 
That a fairy over the bright moon passes ; 
He thinks my Jack-in-the-box is alive. 
Like witches who go to the sky for a drive. 

He thinks our "sis" is her dolly's mother, — 
My dear, absurd little baby brother ! 
Yes, thinks he is " uncle,"" and feels quite gmnd 
To lead his niece about by the hand ! 

But, the best of all, he is really certain 
He once saw Santa Clans through the curtain; 
And he thinks Old Santy'll come by and by. 
On Christmas eve, — and so do I. 

Mary Mapes Dodge, in St. Nicholas. 



FRI3IARr SCHOOL SPEAKER, 33 



DEEDS OF KINDNESS. 

Suppose the little cowslip 

Should hang its little cup. 
And say, '* I'm such a tiny flower, 

I'd better not grow up," 
How many a weary traveller 

Would miss its fragrant smell! 
How many a little child would grieve 

To lose It from the dell! 

Suppose the glistening dewdrops 

Upon the grass should say, 
** What can a little dewdi'op do? 

rd better roll away." 
The blade on which it rested. 

Before the day was done. 
Without a drop to moisten it. 

Would wither in the sun. 

Suppose the little breezes. 

Upon a summer^s day, 
Should think themselves too small tx> cool 

The traveller on his way ; 
Who would not miss the smallest 

And softest ones that blow. 
And think they made a great mistake, 

If they were talking so? 

How many deeds of kindness 

A little child may do. 
Although it has so little strength. 

And little wisdom, too! 
It needs a loving spirit, 

Much more than strength, to prove 
How many things a child may do 

For others by its love. 

Songs foe Children. 



34 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 

Buttercups and Daisies, 

Oh, the pretty flowers! 
Coming ere the spring-time! 

To tell of sunny hom's. 
While the trees are leafless. 

While the fields are bare. 
Buttercups and Daisies 

Spring up everywhere. 

Little hardy flowers, 

Like to children poor. 
Playing in their sturdy health. 

By their mother's door ; 
Purple with the north wind. 

Yet alert and bold, 
Fearing not, and caring not. 

Though they be a-cold. 

What to them is weather ! 

What are stormy showers? 
Buttercups and Daisies, 

Are these human flowers! 
He who gave them hardship. 

And a life of care. 
Gave them likewise hardy strength, 

And patient hearts to bear ! 

Welcome yellow Buttercups! 

Welcome Daisies white! 
Ye are in rqy spirit 

Visioned, a delight! 
Coming ere the spring-time. 

Of sunny -hours to tell, 
Speaking to our hearts of Him 

Who doeth all things well. 

Mary Howitt. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 35 



THE CHILD'S WORLD. 

" Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, 
With the wonderful Avater round you curled. 
And the wonderful grass upon your breast, — 
World, you are beautifully drest. 

"The wonderful air is over me. 
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree, 
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, 
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills. 

*' You friendly Earth! how far do you go. 

With the wheat-fields that nod, and the rivers that flow. 

With cities, and gardens, and cliffs, and isles, 

And people upon you for thousands of miles? 

'* Ah, you are so great, and I am so small, 

I tremble to think of you. World, at all ; 

And yet, when I ^aid my prayers to-day, 

A whisper, inside me, seemed to say, 

' You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot : 

You can love and think, and the Earth cannot ! ' " 

LiLLiPUT Lectures. 



THE ORIOLES. 

Four little mouths agape for ever; 

Four little throats which are never full : 
Four little nestlings, who dissever 

One big worm, by a mighty pull. 

Up on a limb — the lazy fellow ! — 
Perches the father, bold and gay. 

Proud of his coat of black and yellow, 
Always singing throughout the day. 

Close at their side, the watchful mother, 
Quietly sober in dress and song. 

Chooses her place, and asks no other, 
Flying and gleaming all day long. 



36 PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Four little months in time grow smaller, 
Four little throats in time are filled ; 

Four little nestlings quite appall her, 

Spreading their wings for the sun to gild. 

Lazy no longer sits the father, — '■ 
His is the care of the singing-school ; 

He must teach them to fly, and gather 
Splendid worms by the nearest pool. 

Singing away on the shaken branches, 
Under the light of the hapjDy sun ; 

Dropping through blossoms like avalanches, ■ 
Father Oriole's work is done. 

Four little beaks their mouths embolden, 
Four little throats are round and strong; 

Four little nestlings, fledged and golden, 
Graduate in the world of song. 



Anonymous. 



THE CROW. 

Who loves the crow? 
Do the farmers ? Oh no, 
They call him a vagabond born ; 
Of no use to any, 
And not worth a penny, 
A black-coated stealer of corn ! 
They raise an old hat on a broom or a cane, 
And think they shall frighten him out of the grain. 

But "croak! croak! croak!" 
There he sits on the oak, 
And he laughs to himself, *' Who's afraid? " 
*'Caw! caw! caw! caw!" 
And he don't care a straw 
For the silly old scarecrow they made. 
It will take something more than a hat and a cane 
To frighten tlie crow from the farmer's grain. 

Anonymous. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 37 



THE BLUEBIRD. 

BY PERMISSION. 

I KNOW the song that the bhiebird is singing, 
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging. 
Brave httle fellow ! the skies may be dreary, — 
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. 

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat! 
Hark ! was there ever so merry a note ? 
Listen a while, and you'll hear what he's saying. 
Up in the apple-tree swinging and swaying. 

" Dear little blossoms down under the snow, 
You must be weary of winter, I know; 
Hark while I sing you a message of cheer ! 
Summer is coming, and spring-time is here ! 

*' Little white snowdrop! I pray you arise; 
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes; 
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 
Put on your mantles of purple and gold ; 
Daffodils! daffodils!- say, do you hear? — 
Summer is coming I and spring-time is here ! 

Emily Huntington Miller. 



' THREE BUGS. 

Three little bugs in a basket, 

And hardly room for two ! 

And one was yellow, and one was black. 

And one like me, or you. 

The space was small, no doubt, for all ; 

But what should three bugs do? 

Three little bugs in a basket, 

And hardly crumbs for two ; 

And all were selfish in their hearts, 

The same as I or you ; 

So the strong ones said, "We will eat the bread, 

And that is what we'll do." 



38 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Three little bugs in a basket. 
And the beds but two would hold ; 
So they all three fell to quarrelling — 
The white, and black, and the gokl ; 
And two of the bugs got under the rugs. 
And one was out in the cold ! 

So he that was left in the basket, 

Without a crumb to chew, 

Or a thread to wrap himself withal, 

When the wind across him blew, 

Pulled one of the rugs from one of the bugs. 

And so the quarrel grew ! 

And so there was war in the basket. 

Ah, pity 'tis, 'tis true ! 

But he that was frozen and starved at last, 

A strength from his weakness drew, 

And pulled the rugs from both of the bugs, 

And killed and ate them, too! 

Now, when bugs live in a basket, 
Though more than it well can hokl, 
It seems to me they had better agree — 
The white, and the black, and the gold — 
And share what comes of the beds and crumbs, 
And leave no bug in the cold! 

Alice Cart. 



GOLD-LOCKS AND THE SECRET. 

A SECRET is something one should not tell ; 

Little girl Gold-locks knows this well, 

So she shadows iier lips with one small hand. 

That none but myself may understand, 

And begs for the wonderful history 

Of the chippie birds inlhe cedar-tree. 

We call it our secret ; and Gold-lock's eyes, 

Though brimmed with mischief, look wondrous wise; 

And since already the rogue has heard 

The story repeated, word for word. 

Over and over, always new. 

The rest of the children shall hear it too. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 39 

The chippies had built a dried-grass house 
Under the thickest, greenest boughs ; 
Not a single window was in the wall, 
Nor a door, nor any roof at all ; 
The place for the skylight was the door, 
And a soft, soft carpet lined the floor. 

They were plain and home-spun little folks ; — 

None of those gaudy hats and cloaks 

Such as the dandy orioles wear, 

Whether the weather be dull or fair ; 

Not even as much as a crimson vest. 

Such as covers the robin's breast. 

Mrs. Chippie wore mostly brown, 
From tiny claw-gloves to shawl and gOAvn; 
And Mr. Chippie was plain indeed 
In a dingy, well-worn suit of tweed ; 
But the oddest of all was their family. 
Nothing but brown eggs, one, two, three! 

Gold-locks thought it was very queer 
Why Mrs. Chippie should disappear 
Whenever she peeped- through the cedar boughs 
To look at the cunning dried-grass house, 
And count through its open sky-light door 
Little brown eggs, one, two, three, four! 

She studied within her careful brain 
What they would do if it should rain; 
• And at night, whenever she thought of it, 
She looked to see if their lamp vf as lit ; 
Always so wrapped in mystery 
Were the little folks in the cedar-tree ! 

But" now is the funniest thing of all, 

And Gold-locks laughs until tears fall : 

Four baby birds are in the nest • — 

Big, and homely, and not half dressed ; 

You would think — they open their mouths so wide — 

They could swallow each other if they tried. 

What do you think bird babies eat? 
Nothing so very nice or sweet. 



40 PRIMAEY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Their mother brings them for cakes and pies 
Little green worms, and bugs and flies ; 
And when they are grown up, I suppose. 
She will dress them all in plain brown clothes. 

Clara Doty Bates. 



WHO STOLE THE BIRD^S NEST? 

"To- whit! to- whit! to-whee! 
Will you listen to me? 
Who stole four eggs I laid, 
And the nice nest I made? '^ 

" I^ot I," said the cow, " moo-oo.^ 
Such a thing I'd never do. 
I gave you a wisp of hay,. 
But I didn't take your nest away. 
" Not I," said the cow, '* moo-ool 
Such a thing I^d never do." 

*'To-whit! to- whit! to-whee! 
Will you listen to meP 
Who stole four eggs I laid, 
And the nice nest I made? '^ 

"Bob-oMink! Bob-o'-link! 
Now what do you think? 
Who stole a nest away 
Trom the plum-tree, to-day?" 

** Not I," said the dog, *' bow-wow! 
I wouldn't be so mean, anyhow! 
I gave hail's the nest to make. 
But the nest I djd not take. 
Not I,'^ said the dog, ''bow-wow! 
I'm not so mean, anyhow." 

*'To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! 
Will you listen to me ? 
Who stole four eggs I laid. 
And the nice nest I made? " 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 41 

**Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link! 
Now what do you think? 
Who stole a nest away 
From the plum-tree to-day?" 

*' Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! 
Let me speak a word, too ! 
Who stole that pretty nest 
From little yellow-breast?" 

**Not I,'' said the sheep, " oh, no! 
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so. 
I gave wool the nest to line, 
But the nest was none of mine. 
Baa! baa! " said the sheep, " oh, no, 
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so." 

*'To-Avhit! to- whit! to-whee! 
Will you listen to me ? 
Who stole four eggs I laid. 
And the nice nest I made? " 

*'Bob-o'-link! Bob-oMink! 
Now what do you think? 
Who stole a nest away 
From the plum-tree to-day?" 

"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! 
Let me speak a word, too ! 
Who stole that pretty nest 
From little yellow-breast?" 

*' Caw! caw!'' cried the crow, 
" I should like to know 
What thief took away 
A bird's-nest to-day ? " 

" Cluck! cluck! " said the hen, 
*' Don't ask me again ; 
Why, I haven't a chick 
Would do such a trick. 
We all gave her a feather. 
And she wove them too;ethei\ 



42 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

"I'd scorn to intrude 
On her Jind her brood. 
Chick ! cluck ! " said the hen, 
" Don't ask me again." 

* ' Chir-a-whir ! chir-a-whir ! 
All the birds make a stir! 
Let us find out his name, 
And all cry, ' For shame ! ' " 

** I would not rob a bird," 

Said little Mary Green; 
*' I think I never heard 

Of anything so mean." 

'* It is very cruel, too," 

Said little Alice Neal ; 
** I wonder if he knew 

How sad the bird would feel? " 

A little boy hung down his head. 
And went and hid behind the bed. 
For he stole that pretty nest 
From poor little yellow-breast ; 
And he felt so full of shame. 
He didn't like to tell his name. 

Ltdia Maria Child. 



THREE LITTLE NEST-BIRDS. 

We meant to be very kind ; 

But if ever we find 
Another soft, gray-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest in 
a hedge. 

We have taken a pledge — 
Susan, Jemmy, and I — with remorseful tears, at this very 

minute. 
That if there are eggs or little birds in it, 
Robin or wren, thrush, chaffinch, or linnet, 

We'll leave them there 

To their mother's care. 



PRBIARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 43 

There were three of iis — Kate, and Susan, and Jem — 

And three of them — 
I don't know tlieir names, for they couldn't speak. 
Except with a little imperative squeak 

Exactly like Poll, 

Susan's squeaking doll. 
But squeaking dolls will lie on the shelves 
For years, and never squeak of themselves. 
The reason we like little hirds so much better than toys 
Is because they are really alive, and know how to make a 
noise. 

There were three of us and three of them ; 
Kate — that is I — and Susan and Jem. 

Our mother was busy making a pie. 
And theirs, we think, was ujd in the sky, 
But for all Susan, elemmy, or I can tell. 
She may have been getting their dinner as well. 
They were left to themselves (and so were we) 
In a nest in the hedge by the willow-tree. 
And when we caught sight*^ of three red little fluff-tufted, 
hazel-eyed, open-mouthed, pink-throated heads, we 
all shouted for glee. 

Tlie way we really did wrong was this : 
We took them for mother to kiss. 
And she told us to put them back. 
While out of the weeping- willow tlieir mother was crying 
-Alack!" 

We really heard 
Both what mother tolcl us to do and the voice of the mother- 
bird. 
But we three — that is, Susan, and I, and Jem — 
Thought we knew better than either of them ; 
And in spite of our mother's command and the poor bird's 

cry, 
We determined to bring up her three little nestlings our- 
selves on the sly. 

We each took one, 

It did seem sifch excellent fun! 



44 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Susan fed hers on milk and bread ; 
Jem got wriggling worms for his instead. 
I gave mine meat, 
For yon know, I thought, *' Poor darling pet! why shouldn't 

it have roast beef to eat? " 
But, oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! How we cried 
When, in spite of milk and bread and worms and roast 
beef, the little birds died! 

It's a terrible thing to have heart-ache. 
I tliought mine would break 
As I heard the mother-bird's moan, 
And looked at the gray-green, moss-coated, feather-lined 

nest she had taken such pains to make. 
And her three little children dead and cold as a stone. 
Mother said, and it's sadly true, 
" There are some wrong things one can never undo." 
And nothing that we could do or say 
Would bring life back to the birds that day. 

The bitterest tears that we could weep 
Wouldn't wake them out of their stiff, cold sleep. 

But then, 
We — Susan, and Jem, and I — mean never to be so selfish 

and wilful and cruel again. 
And we three have buried that other three 
In a soft, green, moss-covered, flower-lined grave at the 
foot of the willow-tree. 
And all the leaves which its branches shed 
We think are tears because they are dead. 

Harper's Bazar. 



FRIGHTENED BIRDS. 

**IIush! hush! "said the little brown thrush, 

To her mate on the nest in the alder-bush ; 

*'Keep still! don't open your bill! 

There's a boy coming bird-nesting over the hill. 

Let go your Avings out, so 

That not an egg or the nest shall show. 

Chee ! chee ! it seems to me 

I'm as frio^htened as ever a bird can be. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 45 

Then still, with a quivering bill, 

They watched the boy out of sight o'er the hill, 

Ah, then in the branches again, 

Their glad song rang over vale and glen. 

Oh ! oh ! if that boy could know 

How glad they were when they saw him go. 

Say, say, do you think next day 

He could possibly steal those eggs away ? 

Anonymous. 



WHAT THE SPARROW CHIRPS. 

I AM only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
My life is of little value. 

But the dear Lord cares for me. 

He gave me a coat of feathers, 

It is very plain I know, 
With never a speck of crimson, 

For it was not made for show. 

But it keeps me warm in winter. 
And it shields me from the rain; 

Were it bordered with gold or purple, 
Perhaps it would make me vain. 

And now that the spring-time cometh, 

I will build me a little nest, 
With many a chirp of pleasure, 

In the spot I like the best. 

I have no barn or storehouse, 

I neither sow nor reap ; 
God gives me a sparrow's portion, 

But never a cent to keep. 

If my meal is sometimes scanty. 
Close picking makes it sweet ; 

I have always enough to feed me. 
And "life is more than meat." 

I know there are many sparrows ; 
All over the world we're found. 



46 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Bat our heavenly Father knoweth 
When one of us falls to the ground. 

Though small, we are never forgotten; 

Though weak, we are never afraid ; 
For we know that the dear Lord keepeth 

The life of the creatures he made. 

I fly through the thickest forest, 

I light on many a spray ; 
I have no chart nor compass, 

But I never lose the way. 

* And I fold my wings at twilight, 

Wherever I happen to be ; 
For the Father is always watching, 
And harm will not come to me. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of Ioav degree ; 
But I know the Father loves me : 

Have you less faith than me? 

The Child's Paper. 



THREE m A BED. 

Gay little velvet coats. 

One, two, three; 
Any home hap23ier 

Could there be? 
Topsey and Johnny, 

And sleepy Ned, 
Purring so cosily. 

Three in a bed. 

Woe to the stupid mouse, 

Prowling about! 
Old mother Pussy 

Is on the lookout. 
Little cats, big cats, 

All must be fed. 
In the sky parlor. 

Three in a bed. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 47 

Mother 's a gypsy puss — 

Often she moves, 
Thinking much travel 

Her children improves. 
Ili^h-minded family, 

Very well bred ; 
No falling out, you see! 

Three in a bed. 

Anonymous. 



DISCONTENT. 

BY PERCUSSION. 

Down in a field, one day in June, 
The flowers all bloomed together, 

Save one, who tried to hide herself, 
And drooped that pleasant weather. 

A robin, wdio had soared too high, 

And felt a little lazy. 
Was resting near this buttercup. 

Who wished she were a daisy. 

For daisies grow so trig and tall ; 

She always had a passion 
For wearing frills about her neck 

In just the daisies' fashion. 

And buttercups must always be 

The same old tiresome color. 
While daisies dress in gold and white, 

Although their gold is duller. 

*'Dear robin,*" said this sad young flower, 
*' Perhaps you'd not mind trying 

To find a nice white frill for me, 
Some day when you are flying? " 

" You silly thing! " the robin said; 

"I think you must be crazy! 
I'd rather be my honest self 

Than any made-up daisy. 



48 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

"You're nicer in your own bright gown, 

The little children love yon ; 
Be the best buttercup you can, 

And think no flower above you. 

" Though SAvallows leave me out of sight. 

We'd better keep our places ; 
Perhaps the world would all go wrong 

With one too many daisies. 

" Look bravely up into the sky. 

And be content with knowing 
That God wished for a buttercup, 

Just here, where you are growing." 

Sakah O, Jewett. 



CONTENTED JOHN. 

One honest John Tompkins, a hedger and ditcher. 
Although he was poor, did not want to be richer ; 
For all such vain wishes to him were prevented 
By a fortunate habit of being contented. 

Though cold were the weather, or dear were the food, 

John never was found in a murmuring mood ; 

For this he was constantly heard to declare. 

What he could not prevent he would cheerfully bear. 

" For why should I grumble and murmur? " he said; 
**If I cannot get meat, Til be thankful for bread; 
And tliough fretting may make my calamities deeper, 
It never can cause bread and cheese to be cheaper." 

If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, 
He wished himself better, but did not complain, 
Nor lie down to fret in despondence and sorrow, 
But said, that he hoped to be better to-morrow. 

If any one wronged him, or treated him ill, 

Why, John was good-natured and sociable still ; 

For he said that revenging the injury done 

Would be making two rogues where there need be but one. 



PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 49 



And thus honest John, though his station was humble, 
Passed through this sad world without even a grumble ; 
And 'twere well if some folks, who are gi'eater and richer. 
Would copy John Tompkins, the hedger and ditcher. 

Jane Tayloe. 



m THE CLOSET. 

They've taken away the ball, 

Oh dear! 
And I'll never get it back, 

I fear. 
And now they've gone away, 
And left me here to stay 
All alone the livelong day, 

In here. 

It was my ball, any way — 

Not his ; 
For he never had a ball 

Like this. 
Such a coward you'll not see, 
E'en if you should live to be 
Old as Deuteronomy, 

As he is. 

I'm sure I meant no harm — 

None at all ! 
I just held out my hand 

For the ball ; 
And somehow it hit his head ; 
Then his nose it went and bled ; 
And as if I'd killed him dead, 
He did bawl. 

Nursey said I was a horrid 

Little wretch. 
And Aunt Jane said the police 

She would fetch ; 
And cook, who's always glad 
Of a chance to make me mad. 
Said, ''Indeed, she never had 

Seen setch! " 



50 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

No, I never, never will 

Be good ! 
I'll go and be a babe 

In the wood ! 
I'll run away to sea, 
And a pirate I will be! 
Then they'll never call me 

Rough and rude. 

How hungry I am getting — 

Let me see! 
I wonder what they're going to have 

For tea ! 
Of course there will be jam, 
And that lovely potted ham. 
How unfortunate I am ! 

Dear me! 

Oh! it's growing very dark 

In here, 
And the shadow in that Corner 

Looks so queer! 
Won't they bring me any light? 
Must I stay in here all night? 
I shall surely die of fright. 

Oh dear! 

Mother, darling! will you never 

Come back? 
I am sorry that I hit him 

Such a crack. 
Hark! Yes, 'tis her voice I hear! 
Now good-by to every fear, * 

For she's calling me her dear 

Little Jack. 

Laura E. Richards. 



THE HOMELY LITTLE WEAVER. 

There's a little loom a-going. 
Out there in the mid-day sun ; 

A spider is the weaver, 
And her task is just begim. 



PRmAHY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 51 

The thread that this weaver weaveth 

Is spun by a magic wheel 
God put in her little body, 

With noiseless spindle and reel. 

And line enough in its texture 

For high-born lady or queen, 
Is the thread that the weaver weaveth, 

With the sunshine in between. 

She never grows cross nor weary 

While weaving the airy lace, 
Nor tangles the thread as I would do 

W^ere I in the spider's place. 

She never goes forth to gossip 

And tattle of any one, 
And never from house to house to see 

How her neighbor's thread is spun. 

But just like the careful woman 

Who was not afraid of the snow. 
Whose household was clothed in scarlet, 

Was the weaver out there, I trow. 

She is weaving a fairy castle 

Wliose pillars are based on air, 
And round and about the castle 

She windeth a charmed stair. 

And to-night, when the weaver sleepeth, 

The hand of the fairy Dew 
Will frame all her doors and windows 

With diamonds ; and looking through 

Her jewelled and airy casement. 

At sunrise, her thought will be, 
*' How strange tliat so fair a mansion 

Was built by plain little me." 

O homely but patient woman, 

A beautiful truth is there ! 
The worker may be both small and plain, 

And the work still be great and fair. 

Home Journal. 



52 PEIMAEX SCHOOL SPEAKEK. 



MAKING HAY. 

BY PERMISSION. 

Through the meadow-grass, dewy, and tall, and green, 
Drives, whirring and whizzing, the mowing-machine. 
The horses are prancing, the sharp blades shine, 
And the grass lies low in a level line. 

To and fro fly the birds, and chipper and chatter. 
And seem to be wondering what is the matter ; 
While Bobolink's wife makes a frightened ado, 
As she looks for her nest where the horses went through. 

The day grows hot, and the daisies wither ; 

The funny horse-tedder drives hither and thither. 

And scatters the grain as it goes. 

Like a monstrous grasshopper stubbing his toes. 

Then the rake comes on where the tedder has been, 
And rakes up and drops out its lines of green ; 
And the field so fair in the early morn, 
When the noon-time comes, is all shaven and shorn. 

So the wilting grass, and the fading clover, 

They all day long pitch over and over; 

And men with their forks, as the sun goes down, 

Pile the little round heaps, like an Esquimaux town. 

While the daylight flides in the golden west. 

Let us lie on the odorous hay and rest ; 

Our couch is as soft as a velvet throne, 

And sweet as a breeze from the sijice-isles blown. 

To-morrow the carts for the hay will come. 
And the willing old oxen will carry it home; 
And the children shall ride to the barn away. 
On the very tip-top of the load of hay. 

From The Children's Hour. 



PEIMAEY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 53 



CHICKADEE. 

BY PERMISSION. 

All the earth is wrapped in snow, 
O'er the liills the cold winds blow, 
Through the valley doAvn below 

Whirls the blast. 
All the mountain brooks are still, 
Nor a ripple from the hill, 
For each tiny, murmuring rill 

Is frozen fast. 

Come with me 

To the tree 
Where the apples used to hang! 

Follow me 

To the tree 
Where the birds of summer sang! 
There's a happy fellow there. 
For the cold he does not care, 
And he always calls to me, 

*' Chickadee, chickadee ! " 

He's a merry little fellow, 
Neither red nor blue nor yellow, 
For he wears a winter overcoat of gray ; 
And his cheery little voice 
Makes my happy heart rejoice. 
While he calls the livelong clay — 
Calls to me — 
*' Chickadee!" 

From the leafless apple-tree, 

"Chickadee, chickadee!" 
Then he hops from bough to twig. 
Tapping on each tiny sprig. 
Calling happily to me, 
"Chickadee! " 

He's a merry little fellow, 
Neither red nor blue nor yellow; 
He's the cheery bird of winter, 
"Chickadee!" 

Henry Eiplet Dorr, in St. Nicholas. 



54 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



THE LITTLE BOY'S LAMENT. 

Oh, why must I always be washed so clean 
And scrubbed and drenched for Sunday, 

When you know very well, for youVe always seen, 
That I'm dirty again on Monday ? 

My eyes are filled with the lathery soap, 
Which adown my ears are dri23ping ; 

And my smarting eyes I can scarcely ope, 
And my lips the suds are sipping. 

It's down my neck and up my nose, 

And to choke me you seem to be trying; 

That I'll shut my mouth you need not suppose. 
For how can I keep from crying? 

You rub as hard as ever you can, 

And your hands are hard, to my sorrow ; 

No woman shall wash me when I'm a man, 
And I wish I was one to-morrow. 

Anonymous. 



FROM "THE PSALM OF LIFE." 

BY ARRANGEMENT WITH HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

Tell me not in mournful numbers, 
Life is but an empty dream ! 

For the soul is dead that slumbers. 
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real! Life is earnest! 

And the grave is not its goal : 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soul. 



Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime. 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; — 



PRniAKY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 55 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing. 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing. 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



ABOU BEN ADHEM. 

Abou Ben Adhem — may his tribe increase — 
Awoke one niglit from a sweet dream of peace, 
And saw, within the moonlight in his room. 
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom. 
An angel, writing in a book of gold. 
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold. 
And to the Presence in the room he said, 
** What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, 
And, with a look made all of sweet accord. 
Answered, '*The names of those who love the Lord." 
*' And is mine one? " said Abou. " Na}^ not so," 
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then. 
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 

It came again, with a great wakening light. 

And showed the names whom love of God had bless'd ; 

And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 

Leigh Hunt. 



THE WAY TO DO IT. 

BY PERMISSION. 

I'll tell you how I speak a piece : 

First, I make my bow ; 
Then I bring my words out clear 

And plain as I know how. 



56 PEIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Next, I throw my hands up — so ! 

Then I lift my eyes : 
That's to let my hearers know 

Something doth surprise. 

Next, T gi'in and show my teeth. 

Nearly every one. 
Shake my shoulders, hold my sides : 

That's the sign of fun. 

Next, I start, and knit my brows. 

Hold my head erect : 
Something 's wrong, you see, and I 

Decidedly object. 

Then I wabble at my knees. 

Clutch at shadows near. 
Tremble well from top to toe : 

That's the sign of fear. 

Now I start, and with a leap, 

Seize an airy dagger. 
" Wretch ! " I cry. That's tragedy, 

Ever}^ soul to stagger. 

Then I let my voice grow faint, 

Gasp, and hold my breath ; 
Tumble down and plunge about : 

That's a villain's death. 

Quickly then I come to life. 

Perfectly restored ; 
With a bow my speech is done. 

Now you'll please applaud. 

Mart Mapes Dodge, in Rhymes and Jingles. 



LITTLE CHATTERBOX. 

They call me "Little Chatterbox: ' 

My name is little May. 
I have to talk so much, because 

I have so much to say. 



PROIAEY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 57 

And, O, I have so many friends! 

So many, and, you see, 
I can't help loving them, because 

They, every one, love me. 

I love my papa and mamma ; 

I love my sisters, too ; 
And if you're very, very good. 

I guess that I'll love yoa! 

But I love God the best of all ; 

He keeps me all the night ; 
And when the morning comes again, 

He wakes me with the light. 

I think it is so nice to live! 

And yet, if I should die. 
The Lord would send liis angels down 

To take me to the sky. 

AXOXTMOUS. 



OLD IROXSIDES.=^ 

BY ARBAXGEMEXT WITH HOUGHTON, MIFELIX & CO. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! 

Long has it waved on high. 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And bur^ the cannon's roar ; — 
The meteor of the ocean air. 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe. 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
'No more shall feel the victor's tread. 

Or know the conquered knee ; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

* Written when it was proposed to break up the U. S. frigate Con- 
stitution, familiarly known as " Old h'onsicles.'* 



58 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Oh, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave : 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, ' 

Set every threadbare sail. 
And give her to the god of storms, — 

The lightning and the gale ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



LADS ON THE LADDER. 

Lads on the ladder, up go we. 

Slowly but surely the ladder ascending; 
Not what we are, but what we shall he, 

Gilding the summit to which we are tending. 
The work is hard, the progress slow ; 

But we'll neither falter, nor loiter, nor stop ; 
Higher and higher still we go. 

Up we will go till we reach the top. 

Some there are — born at the top of the ladder — 

They have no struggle, no aim in life; 
Perhaps they are happier; perhaps they are sadder; 

We would not change with them — give up the strife. 
We look right up and firmly tread. 

Steady of foot and firm of hand. 
Cheerfully eating hard-earned bread : ' 

Lads on the ladder — a noble band! 

Some there are eying us down below, 

Lounging lazily in the sun, 
Wishing they might to the summit go. 

And end the work they have never begun. 
They would like to he, but not to do ; 

To shun the labor, but take the prize ; 
Not such the wish of the hero, who 

Has made up his mind in the world to rise. 

Come, sunshine bright! come, cloudy night! 
Come, winter weather, and frost, and snow ; 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 59 

Come, we are ready to work and fight; 

Anything, any way — up we go ! 
The work is hard, the progress slow. 

But we neither loiter, nor falter, nor stop; 
Higher and higher, for well we know 

One must climb the ladder to reach the top. 

Anonymous. 



THE LIFE-BOAT. 

The life-boat! the life-boat! when tempests are dark, 
She 's the beacon of hope to the foundering bark ; 
Wlien, 'midst the wild roar of the hurricane's sweep, 
The minute-guns boom like a knell o'er the deep. 

The life-boat! the life-boat! the whirlwind and rain, 
And white-crested breakers oppose her in vain ; 
Her crew are resolved, and her timbers are staunch ; 
She's the vessel of mercy, good-speed to her launch! 

The life-boat! the life-boat! now fearless and free. 
She wins her bold course o'er the wide-rolling sea; 
She bounds o'er the surges Avith gallant disdain. 
She has stemmed them before, and she'll stem them again. 

The life-boat ! the life-boat ! she 's manned by the brave, 
In the noblest of causes commissioned to save ; 
What heart but has thrilled at the seaman's distress, 
At the life-boat's endeavors, the life-boat's success. 

Anonymous. 



NEW-ENGLAND'S DEAD. 

New-England's dead ! New-England's dead! 

On every hill they lie ; 
On every field of strife, made red 

By bloody victory. 
Each valley, where the battle poured 

Its red and awfal tide. 
Beheld the brave New-England sword 

With slaughter deeply dyed. 



60 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Their bones are on the northern hill, 

And on the southern plain, 
By brook and river, lake and rill, 

And by the roaring main. 

The land is holy where they fought, 

And holy where they fell ; 
For by their blood that land was bought, 

The land they loved so well. 
Then glory to that valiant band, 
The honored saviors of the land ! 

They left the ploughshare in the mould, 

Their flocks and herds without a fold. 

The sickle in the unshorn grain, 

The corn, half-garnered, on the plain. 

And mustered in their simple dres5. 

For wrongs to seek a stern redress ; 

To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe. 

To perish, or overcome their foe. 

Oh, few and weak their numbers were — 

A handful of brave men ; 
But to their God they gave their prayer, 

And rushed to battle then. 
The God of battles heard their cry. 
And sent to them the victory. 

McLellan. 



THE ARITHMETIC LESSON.=^ 

Two times 'leven are twenty-two. 
Kitty, don^t I wish 'twas you, 
'Stead of me, had this to do? 
Two times 'leven are twenty-two. 

Three times 'leven are thirty-three. 
Robin, in the apple-tree, 
I hear you ; do you hear me ? 
Three times 'leven are thirty-three. 

* Child studying at an open window. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 61 

Four times 'leven are forty-four ; 
How the sunbeams speck the floor! 
Four times 'leven are — what a bore ! 
Four times 'leven are forty-four. 

Five times 'leven are fifty-five ; 
Swallows ! swallows ! skim and dive, 
Making all the air alive ; 
Five, times 'leven are fifty-five. 

Six times 'leven are sixty-six ; 
Tip, for shame, sir ! Pretty chicks, 
Don't you mind his saucy tricks ; 
Six times 'leven are sixty-six. 

Seven times 'leven are seventy-seven ; 
There, now, Kitty, you can't even 
Say the first — " once 'leven is 'leven; " 
Seven times 'leven are seventy-seven. 

Eight times 'leven are eighty-eight ; 
Some one 's pulling at tlie gate ; 
Hark! it's Bessie, sure as fate! 
Eight times 'leven are eight3-eight. 

Nine times leven are ninety-nine ; 
Coming, Bessie! Ain't it fine? 
That's the last one in the line ! 
Nine times 'leven are ninety-nine. 

Anonymous. 



THE BOY-KIXG. 

Ho ! I'm a king, a king ! A crown is on my head, 

A sword is at my side, and regal is my tread; 

Ho, slave ! proclaim my vvnll to all the people round. 

The schools are hereby closed ; henceforth must fun abound. 

Vacation shall not end ; all slates I order smaslied ; 

Tlie man who says " Aritlniietic," he must be soundly 

thrashed ! 
All grammars sliall be burnt; tlie spellers we will tear; 
The boy who spells correctlj^ a fool's-cap he shall wear. 



62 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

No dolls shall be allowed, for dolls are what I hate, 

The girls must give them up, and learn to swim and skate; 

Confectioners must charge only a cent a pound 

For all the plums and candy that in the shops are found. 

That man who asks a dime for any pear or peaeh, 

I'll haA^e him hung so high that none his feet can reach ; 

No baker is allowed hereafter to bake bread — 

He must bake only pies and cakes and ginger-snaps instead. 

All lecturers must quit our realm without delay ; 
The circus-men and clowns, on pain of death, must stay ; 
All folk who frown on fun at once must banished be. 
Now, fellow, that you know my will, to its fulfilment see ! 

Alfred Selwyn. 



MARCH. 



I WONDER what spendthrift chose to spill 
Such bright gold under my window-sill! 
Is it fairy gold? Does it glitter still? 
Bless me ! it is but a daffodil ! 

And look at the crocuses, keeping tryst 
With the daffodil by the sunshine kissed ! 
Like beautiful bubbles of amethyst 
They seem, blown out of the earth's snow mist. 

And snowdrops, delicate fairy bells. 
With a pale green tint like the ocean swells ; 
And the hyacinths weaving their perfumed spells. 
The ground is a rainbow of asphodels ! 

Who said that March was a scold and a shrew? 
Who said she had nothing on earth to do 
But tempests and furies and rages to brew? 
Why, look at the wealth she has lavished on you ! 

O March that blusters and March that blows, 
What color under your footsteps glows ! 
Beauty you summon from winter snows, 
And you are the pathway that leads to the rose ! 

Celia Thaxter, in Wide Awake. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 63 



THE FROST. 

The Frost looked forth one still, clear night. 
And whispered, '' Now I shall be out of sight; 
So through the valley and over the height. 

In silence I'll take my way ; 
I will not go on like that blustering train, — 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain. 
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain, 

But I'll be as busy as they ! " 

Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest ; 
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest 
In diamond beads ; and over the breast 

Of the quivering lake he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
The downward point of many a spear 
That he hung on its margin, far and near, 

Where a rock could rear its head. 

He went to the windows of those who slept. 
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept ; 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped, 

By the light of the morn, were seen 
Most beautiful things : there were flowers and ti*ees ; 
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees ; 
There were cities with temples and towers ; and these 

All pictured in silver sheen! 

But one thing he did that was hardly fair — 
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there 
That all had forgotten for him to prepare, 
'' Now, just to set them a-thinking, 
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he; 
" This costly pitcher I'll burst in three ; 
And the glass of water they've left for me 
ShaU ' tchick ' to tell them I'm drinking." 

Hannah F. Gould. 



64 PKIMAKY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



A SUMMER SONG. 

BY PERMISSION. 

Roly-poly honey-bee, 

Hnmming in tide clover. 
With the green leaves under you, 

And the blue sky over, 
Why are you so busy, pray ? 

Never still a minute. 
Hovering now above a flower, 

Now half buried in it ! 

Janty robin-redbreast, 

Singing loud and cheerly. 
From the pink-white apple-tree 

In the morning early. 
Tell me, is your merry song 

Just for your own pleasure 
Poured from such a tiny throat, 

Without stint or measure? 

Little yellow buttercup. 

By the wayside smiling. 
Lifting up your happy face. 

With such sweet beguiling, 
Why are 3^ou so gayly clad — 

Cloth of gold your raiment? 
Do the sunshine and the dew 

Look to you for payment? 

Roses in the garden-beds, 

Lilies, cool and saintly. 
Darling blue-eyed violets, 

Pansies hooded quaintly. 
Sweet-peas, that, like butterflies. 

Dance the bright skies under, 
Bloom ye for your own delight. 

Or for ours, I wonder! 

Mrs. Julia C. E. Dokr, in St. Nicholas. 



PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 65 



HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWX. 

I'll tell you how the leaves came down. 

The great tree to his children said : 
''You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, 

Yes, very sleepy, little Red ; 
It is quite time you went to bed." 

** Ah! " begged each silly, pouting leaf, 

*' Let us a little longer stay; 
Dear Father Tree, behold our grief, 

'Tis such a very pleasant day, 
We do not want to go away." 

So just for one more merry day 

To the great Tree the leaflets clung. 

Frolicked and danced and had their way, 
Upon the autumn breezes swung. 

Whispering all their sports among : 

" Perhaps the great Tree will forget 
And let us stay until the spring. 

If we all beg and coax and fret." 

But the great Tree did no such thing ; 

He smiled to hear their whispering. 

''Come, children, all to bed," he cried; 

And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, 
He shook his liead, and far and wide. 

Fluttering and rustling everywhere, 
Down sped the leaflets through the air. 

I saw them ; on the ground they lay, 
Golden and red, a huddled swarm, 

Waiting till one from far away, 

White bed-clothes heaped upon her arm, 

Should come to wrap them safe and warm. 

The great bare Tree looked down and smiled. 

"Good-night, dear little leaves," he said; 
And from below, each sleepy child 

Replied, "Good-night," and murmured, 
" It is so nice to go to bed." 

Susan Coolidge. 



66 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



MARJORIE'S ALMANAC. 

BY PERMISSION. 



Robins in the tree-top. 

Blossoms in the grass, 
Green things a-growing 

Everywhere yon pass; 
Sudden little breezes. 

Showers of silver dew, 
Black bough and bent twig 

Budding out anew ; 
Pine-tree and willow-tree, 

Fringed elm, and larch — 
Don't you think that May-time 's 

Pleasanter than March? 

Apples in the orchard, 

Mellowing one by one ; 
Strawberries upturning 

Soft cheeks to the sun, 
Roses faint with sweetness. 

Lilies fair of face, 
Drowsy scents and murmurs 

Haunting every place ; 
Lengths of golden sunshine, 

Moonlight bright as day — 
Don't you think that summer 's 

Pleasanter than May ? 

Roger in the corn-patch, 

Whistling negro songs ; 
Pussy by the hearth-side. 

Romping with the tongs ; 
Chestnuts in the ashes, 

Bursting through the rind ; 
Red leaf and gold leaf 

Rustling down the wind ; 
Motlier " doin' peaches " 

All the afternoon — 
Don't you think that autumn 's 

Pleasanter than tlune? 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 67 

Little fairy snow-flakes 

Dancino; in the flue ; 
Old Mr. Santa Clans, 

What is keeping yon ? 
Twilight and tire-light; 

Shadows come and go; 
Merry chimes of sleigii-bells 

Tinkling through the snow; 
Mother knitting stockings 

(Pussy 's got the ball) — 
DonU you think that winter 's 

Pleasanter than all ? 

T. B. AiDRicH, IN St. Nicholas. 



FLOWERS. 



God might have made the earth bring forth 

Enough for great and small, 
The oak-tree and the cedar-tree. 

Without a flower at all. 

He might have made enough, enough 

For every want of ours. 
For luxury, medicine, and toil. 

And yet have made no flowers. 

The clouds might give abundant rain. 

The nightly dews might fall, 
And the herb that keepeth life in man 

Might yet have drunk them all. 

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made. 

And dyed with rainbow light. 
All fashioned with supremest grace, 

Upspringing day and night? 

Springing in valleys green and low, 

And on the mountains high ; 
And in the silent wilderness. 

Where no one passes by ? 

Our outward life requires them not; 
Then wherefore had they birth? 



68 PRIMAKY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

To minister delight to man ; 
To beautify the earth ; 

To comfort man, — to whisper hope 

Whene'er his faith is dim ; 
For He who careth for the flowers 

Will much more care for him ! 

Mart Howitt. 

STRAWBERRIES. 

BY PERMISSION. 

- LiTiTLE Pearl Honeydew, six years old, 

From her bright ear parted the curls of gold, 
And laid her head on the strawberry-bed, 
To hear what the red-cheeked berries said. 

Their cheeks were blushing, their breath was sweet, 
She could almost hear their little hearts beat; 
And the tiniest lisping, whispering sound 
That ever you heard, came up from the ground. 

' ** Little friends," she said, " I wish I knew 
How it is you thrive on sun and dew ! " 
And this is the story the berries told 
To little Pearl Honeydew, six years old. 

** You wish you knew? and so do we! 
But we can't tell you, unless it be 
That the same kind Power that cares for you 
Takes care of poor little berries too. 

*' Tucked up snugly, and nestled below 

Our coverlid of wind-woven snow. 

We peep and listen, all winter long. 

For the first spring-day and the bluebird's song. 

" When the swallows fly home to the old brown shed. 
And the robins build on the bough overhead. 
Then out from the mould, from the darkness and cold. 
Blossom and runner and leaf unfold. 

"Good children then, if they come near. 
And hearken a good long while, may hear 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 69 

A wonderful tramping of little feet, — 
So fast we grow in the summer heat. 

** Our clocl^s are the flowers ; and they count the hours, 
Till we can mellow in suns and showers. 
With warmth of the west- wind and heat of the south, 
A ripe red berry for a ripe red mouth. 

''Apple-blooms whiten, and peach-blooms fall, 
And roses are gay by the garden- wall, 
Ere the daisy's dial gives the sign 
That we can invite little Pearl to dine. 

" The days are longest, the month is June, 
Tlie year is nearing its golden noon. 
The weather is line, and our feast is spread 
Witli a green cloth and berries red. 

*' Just take us betwixt your finger and thumb — 
And quick, oh, quick! for, see! there come 
Tom on all-fours, and Martin the man. 
And Margaret, picking as fast as they can! 

"Oh dear! if you onl}^ knew how it shocks 
'Nice berries like us to be sold by the box. 
And eaten by strangers, and paid for with pelf. 
You would surely take pity, and eat us yourself ! " 

And this is the stor}^ the small lips told 
To dear Pearl Honeydew, six years old. 
When she laid her head on the strawberry-bed 
To hear what the red-cheeked berries said. 

John T. Trowbridge. 



THE MISCHIEVOUS BRIER. 

Little Miss Brier came out of the ground. 

She put'out her thorns and scratched everything round; 

" I'lijust try," said she, 

" How bad I can be ; 
Al pricking and scratching there's few can beat me." 



70 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Little Miss Brier was handsome and bright, 

Her leaves were dark green, and her flowers were pure white ; 

But all who came nigh her 

Were so worried by her, 
They'd go out of their way to keep clear of the Brier. 

Little Miss Brier was looking one day 
At her neiglibor the Violet over the way : 

" I wonder," said she, 

" That no one pets me ; 
While all seem so glad little Violet to see." 

A sober old Linnet who sat on a tree. 

Heard the speech of the Brier, and thus ansAvered he : 

*' It's not that she's fair. 

For you may compare, 
In beauty, with even Miss Violet there. 

*'But Violet's always so pleasant and kind, 
So gentle in manner, so humble in mind ; 

E'en tlie worms at her feet 

She would never ill treat. 
And to bird, bee, and butterfly always is sweet." 

The gardener's wife just then the pathway came down, 
And the mischievous Brier caught hold of her gown. 

*' Oh dear, what a tear, 

My gown 's spoiled, I declare ; 
That troublesome Brier, it's no business there! 
Here, John, grub it up, throw it into the Are." 
And that was the end of the troublesome Brier. 

Mrs. Anna Bache. 



READY FOR DUTY. 

Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold, 

Through the brown mould, 
Althoug;li the March breezes blew keen on her face, 
Altliough the white snow lay on many a place. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 71 

Daffy-down-dilly had heard underground 

The sweet rushing sound 
Of the streams as they burst off their white winter-chains, 
Of the whistung spring winds and the pattering rains. 

*' Now, then," thought Daffy, deep down in her heart, 

*' It's time I should start." 
So she pushed her soft leaves through the hard-frozen 

ground 
Quite up to the surface, and then she looked round. 

There was snow all about her, gray clouds overhead, 

The trees all looked dead : 
Then how do you think Daffs^-down-dilly felt, 
When the sun would not shine, and the ice would not melt? 

*' Cold weather! " thought Daff, still working away; 

'* The earth 's hard to-day. 
There's but half an inch of my leaves to be seen. 
And two-thirds of that is more yellow than green. 

*' I can't do much yet; but I'll do what I can. 

" It's well I began, 
For unless I can manage to lift up my head. 
The people will think Spring herself 's dead." 

So, little by little, she brought her leaves out, 

All clustered about. 
And then her bright flowers began to unfold. 
Till Daffy stood robed in her spring green-and-gold. 

O Daffy-down-dilly, so brave and so true ! 

I wish all Avere like you. 
So ready for duty in all sorts of weather. 
And holding forth courage and beauty together. 

Miss Warner. 



72 PEIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. 

BY PERMISSION. 

We were crowded in the cabin ; 

Not a soul would dare to sleep : 
It was midnight on the waters, 

And a storm was on the deep. 

'Tis a fearful thing in winter 

To be shattered l3y the blast. 
And to hear the rattling trumpet 

Thunder, '* Cut away the mast! " 

So we shuddered there in silence. 
For the stoutest held his breath. 

While the hungry sea was roaring. 
And the breakers talked of death. 

As thus we sat in darkness. 

Each one busy with his prayers, 

"We are lost! " the captain shouted, 
As he staggered down the stairs. 

But his little daughter whispered, 

As she took his icy hand, 
*' Isn't God upon the water. 

Just the same as on the land? " 

Then he kissed the little maiden. 

And he spoke in better cheer. 
And we anchored safe in harbor 

When the morn was shining clear! 

James T. Fields. 



THE FIRST SNOW-FALL. 

BY ARRANGEMENT WITH HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN, & CO. 

The snow had begun in the gloaming. 

And busily, all the night. 
Had been heaping field and highway 

AVith a silence deep and white. 



PEIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 73 

Every pine and fir and hemlock 

Wore ermine too dear for an earl ; 
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree 

Was ridged inch-deep with pearl. 

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara 

Came Chanticleer's muffled crow ; 
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down ; 

And still fluttered down the snow\ 

I stood and watched by the window 

The noiseless work of the sky, 
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, 

Like brown leaves whirling by. 

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn, 

Where a little headstone stood ; 
How the flakes were folding it gently, 

As did robins the babes in the wood. 

Up spoke our own little Mabel, 

Saying, " Father, who makes it snow? " 

And I told of the good All-father, 
Who cares for us here below. 

Again I looked at the snow-fall. 

And thought of the leaden sky 
That arched o'er our first great sorrow. 

When that mound was heaped so high. 

I remembered the gradual patience 

That fell from that cloud like snow, 
Flake by flake, healing and hiding 

The scar of our deep-plunged woe. 

And again to the child I whispered, 

" The snow that husheth all, — 
Darling, the merciful Father 

Alone can make it fall." 

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; 

And she, kissing back, could not know 
That inij kiss was given to her sister. 

Folded close under deepening snow. 

James Russell Lowell. 



74 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



LITTLE MARY'S WISH. 

** I HAYE seen the first robin of spring, motlier dear. 

And have heard the brown darling sing ; 
You said, 'Hear it and wish, and 'twill surely come true;' 

So I've wished such a beautiful thing ! 

" I thought I would like to ask something for you, 

But I couldn't think what there could be 
That you'd want while you had all these beautiful things ; 

Besides, you have papa and me. 

*' So I wished for a ladder, so long that 'twould stand 

One end by our own cottage-door. 
And the other go up past the moon and the stars, 

And lean against heaven's white floor. 

** Then I'd get you to put on my pretty white dress, 
With my sash and my darling new shoes ; 

Then I'd find some white roses to take up to God — 
The most beautiful ones I could choose. 

*' And you and dear papa would sit on the ground 

And kiss me, and tell me ' Good-by ! ' 
Then I'd go up the ladder far out of your sight, 

Till I came to the door in the sky. 

** I wonder if God keeps the door fastened tight? 

If but one little crack I could see, 
I would whisper, * Please, God, let this little girl in. 

She's as tired as she can be ! 

" * She came all alone from the earth to the sky. 

For she's always been wanting to see 
The gardens of heaveii-, with their robins and flowers ; 

Please, God, is there room there for me ? ' 

** And then, when the angels had opened the door, 
God Avould say, 'Bring the little child here,' 

But he'd speak it so softly I'd not be afraid: 
And he'd smile just like you, mother dear. 



PRIMAKY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 75 

"He would put his kind arms round your dear little girl, 

And I'd ask him to send down for you, 
And papa, and cousin, and all that I love — 

Oh dear! don't you wish 'twould come true?" 

The next spring time, when the robins came home, 

They sang over grasses and flowers 
That grew where the foot of the ladder stood. 

Whose top reached the heavenly bowers. 

And the parents had dressed the pale, still child. 

For her flight to the summer land. 
In a fair white robe, with one snow-white rose 

Folded tight in her pulseless hand. 

And now at the foot of the ladder they sit, 

Looking upward with quiet tears, 
Till the beckoning hand and the fluttering robe 

Of the cliild at the top appears. 

Mrs. L. M. Blinn, in Our Youxg Folks. 



THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS. 

'TwAS the night before Christmas, when all through 

the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; 
The stockings were hung at the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ; 
The children were nestled all snug in their beds. 
While visions of sugar- plums danced in their heads ; 
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap. 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, — 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I flew like a flash. 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below; 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, 



76 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name : 

'* Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! 

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on Donder and Blitzen! 

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall ! 

Now, dasli away, dash away, dash away, all! " 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 

When tliey meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 

With the sleigh full of toys, — and St. Nicholas, too. 

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof 

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 

As I drew in my head and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot. 

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot ; 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back. 

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 

Plis eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! 

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. 

He had a broad face and a little round belly 

That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 

He was chubby and plump, — a right jolly old elf; 

And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself. 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head 

Soon gave me to know I hacl nothing to dread. 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work. 

And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, 

And laying his finger aside of his nose. 

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. 

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle ; 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 

*' Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night! " 

Clement C. Moore. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 77 



HANG UP THE BABY'S STOCKING. 

Hang up the baby's stocking, 

Be sure you don't forget — 
The clear little dimpled darling! 

She ne'er saw a Christmas yet ; 
But I've told her all about it. 

And she opened her big blue eyes. 
And I'm sure that she understands it. 

She looks so funny and wise. 

Dear ! what a tiny stocking ! 

It doesn't take much to hold 
Such little pink toes as baby's 

Away from the frost and cold. 
But then, for the baby's Christmas 

It never will do at all : . 

Why, Santa wouldn't be looking 

For anything half so small ! 

I know what we'll do for the baby — 

I've thought of the very best plan — 
I'll borrow a stocking of grandma. 

The longest that ever I can ; 
And you'll hang it by mine, dear mothers 

Right here in the corner, so, 
And write a letter to Santa, . 

And flisten it on to the toe. 

Write: "This is the baby's stocking 

That hangs in the corner here ; 
You never have seen her, Santa, 

For she only came this 3^ear : 
But she 's just the blessedest baby ; 

And now, before you go, 
Just cram her stocking with goodies. 

From the top clean doAvn to the toe." 

Aj^onymous. 



78 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



ONE LITTLE EMPTY STOCKING. 

One little empty stocking, 

Left of the pretty pair. 
We hung by the chimney-corner. 

With tenderest love and care. 
The year has brought us sorrow, 

Bitterest tears and pain, 
And we have no smiles of greeting, 

When Christmas comes again. 

One little empty stocking 

To mind us of all our joys, 
The shouting of happy voices 

At finding the pretty toys. 
But now we have lost our darling, 

The dear little feet are still. 
And there's only an empty stocking. 

That Santa Claus cannot fill. 

Some little empty stocking 

Tliere's time enough now^ to fill 
With many a loving token, 

Pressed down with a right good will. 
For selfish it is, and sinful. 

Thus over my loss to repine. 
When I know there are other darlings 

Not as safe nor as rich as mine. 

And ever what God has taken 

Some recompense surely brings; 
For out of the gloomy shadows 

We're lifted on angels' wings, 
Wlien we open our hearts to the sunshine 

Of infinite love and grace. 
And feel that a Christlike presence 

Has taken the dead child's place. 

Josephine Pollard. 



PRBIARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 79 



KIXG CHRISTMAS. 

He is come! he is come! a monarch he, 
By his broad, bright reign over land and sea ; 
A king Avith more than a kingly sway, 
For he wields a sceptre that hearts ol3ey, 
He comes to us with a song and a shout, 
And a tinkle of laughter round about, 

And a rhyme of bells 

That sways and swells 
Cheerily, under the faint, brief blue. 
That, crowding at nightfall, the stars look through. 
He comes in joy to our household ring. 
Meet him, and greet him, and crown him king. 

To lowly cottag^e, and lordly hall. 
He comes, with a blessing for each and all ; 
He holds his court by the blazing hearth, 
For he loves the joyance of household mirth. 
The boys all hail him with shout and glee, 
For a rare boy-loving old king is he. 

They deck their homes. 

And watch as he comes 
DoAATi the dark of the winter night ; 
They weave him a garland of holly bright. 
When he comes with gifts to their joyous ring. 
And meet him, and greet him, and crown him king. 

He mends the links in Love's broken chain. 
And drifting hearts are drawn near again. 
He brings us back, amid smiles and tears, 
Our dear ones, over the gulf of years : 
He sings to us echoes, sweet and low, 
Of the song that was sung so long ago, 

To the shepherds of old. 

As they watched the fold. 
Of " peace on earth," and to men " good will," 
And softly the same sweet story still 
King Christmas tells in our social ring; 
Then meet him, and greet him, and crown him king. 

A. Graham. 



80 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



THE ISriGHTIlSTGALE AND GLOW-AYORM. 

A NIGHTINGALE that all day long 
Had cheered the village with his song, 
Nor yet at eve his note suspended, 
ISTor yet when eventide was ended. 
Began to feel, as well he might. 
The keen demands of appetite ; 
When, looking eagerly around, 
He spied far off, upon the gronnd, 
A something shining in the dark. 
And knew the glow-worm by his spark. 
So, stooping down from hawthorn top. 
He thought to put him in his crop. 
The Avorm, aware of his intent, 
Harangued him thus, right eloquent: ' 
" Did you admire my lamp," quoth he, 
''As much as I your minstrelsy. 
You would abhor to do me wrong 
As much as I to spoil your song ; 
For 'twas the self-same Power divine 
Taught you to sing and me to shine. 
That you with music, I with light. 
Might beautify and cheer the night." 
The songster heard this short oration, 
And, warbling out his aj^probation. 
Released him, as my story tells. 
And found a supper somewhere else. 

COWPEII. 



GRANDPAPA. 

Grandpapa's hair is very white, 
And grandpapa Avalks but slow ; 

He likes to sit still in his easy-chair. 
While the children come and go. 

"Hush! play quietly," says mamma; 

*' Let nobody trouble dear grandpapa." 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 81 

Grandpapa's hand is thin and weak ; 

It has worked hard all his days, — 
A strong right hand, and an honest hand. 

That has won all good men's praise. 
*' Kiss it tenderly," says mamma: 
** Let every one honor grandpapa." 

Grandpapa's eyes are growing dim ; 

They have looked on sorrow and death ; 
But the love-light never went out of them, 

Nor the courage and the fiiith. 
** You children, all of you," says mamma, 
''Have need to look up to d^ar grandpapa." 

Grandpapa's years are wearing few ; 

But he leaves a blessing behind, — 
A good life lived, and a good fight fought. 

True heart and equal mind. 
** Remember, my children," says mamma, 
*' You bear the name of your grandpapa." 

]Mrs. Muloch-Ceaik. 



ANISTA AND NED. 

Anna and Ned, little sister and brother. 
Stood at the window one bitter cold day; 

Just before Christmas it was, and their mother 
Came for good-by befoi*e going away. 

** Mamma," said Ned, as she went to the door, 

" Will you get me some oxen with hair and big horns! 

Those are just wood ones you gave me before; 

Get me some truly ones, please, like Will Thorn's." 

*' And what," said mamma, "■ shall I order for Anna? " 
" O, she wants a doll," said Ned; " one that can talk, 

And shut up her eyes in that comical manner — 
No matter, perhaps, if the creature can walk. 

*' Anna 's a girl, you see, I know her capers; 

She doesn't care about oxen, like me. 
Please, mamma, get me some bright-colored tapers, 

And big, shiny tin things to hang on the tree." 



82 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

'' No, mamma, please " — and the sweet voice was tearful, 
'' Don't buy me anything; get some warm clothes; 

Papa says the suffering out West is fearful : 

Why, some little children last week nearly froze." 

Mamma kissed her darlings, and said, "I'll remember; 

And, children, be good now, while I am away," 
And then she went out in the cold, bleak December, 

While Anna and Ned hurried off to their play. 

" Aren't you a goose? " said Ned, ** now let me ask you, 
To give up your doll for the babies out West? 

Papa will send things to the folks in Nebraska, 
And you miglit have goodies and fun like the rest." 

Little Anna said nothing, though warm tears were dropping 
All over the blocks that she held in her hand ; 

She built a tall liouse, roof and all, witliout stopping, 
Then toppled it over at Ned's loud command. 

Anna did want a doll, and she loved her small brother, — 
And thought him a very wise boy, to be sure, — 

But still was not sorry for asking her mother 
To spend all the money on clothes for the poor. 

She thought of the Christ- child who, gentle and lowly, 
Gave his all and Himself for the poor and the bad ; 

And though the bright teardrops kept gathering slowly. 
She was not unhappy, but peaceful and glad. 

At last Christmas came, and the warm sun was shining. 
And sleigh-bells were ringing, when Anna awoke 

To find on the pillow beside her reclining — 

Would you think it? — a dolly that really spoke! 

She ran straight to mamma Avith the wonderful baby, 
And rubbed her blue eyes to be fully awake. 

For the dear little girl was still thinking, " It may be 
I'm dreaming, or somebody 's made a mistake." 

But no ; mamma said this was Anna's own treasure. 

And the children out West should be clothed and fed too ; 

And added, " It gives your mamma real pleasure 
To make glad and happy a daughter like you." 

Anonymous. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 83 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 

Oyer the river and through the wood, 
To grandfather's house we go ; 

The horse knows the way 

To carry the sleigh 
Throuo^h the white and drifting snow. 

Over the river and through the wood — 
Oh, hoAV the wind doth blow! 

It stings the toes. 

And bites the nose. 
As over the ground we go. 

Over the river and through the wood, 
To have a first-rate play. 
Hear the bells ring 
Ting-a-ling-ling ! 
Hurrah for Thanksgiving-Day ! 

Over the river and through the wood, 
Trot fast, my Dapple-gray I 

Spring over the ground 

Like a hunting hound. 
For this is Thanksgiving-Day. 

Over the river and through the wood. 
And straight through the barn-yard gate. 

We seem to go 

Extremely slow, — 
It is so hard to wait ! 

Over the river and through the wood — 
Now grandmother's cap I spy ! 
Hurrah for the fun ! 
Is the pudding done? 
Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie ! 

Ltdia Maria Child. 



84 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



A DREAIM ABOUT THE OLD NURSERY 
RHYMES. 

Oh, that day last December, 
Wei], well I remember 

How tired 1 felt after school ; 
On the sofji reposing. 
With just my eyes closing, 

While puss went to sleep on the stool. 

Sure ! could I be sleeping, 
When something came creeping. 

So lightly, like pussy's soft paw ; 
And then little Bo-peep, 
Come to look for her sheep, 

Quite close to the pillow I saw ! 

And I heard, " Ding-dong bell ; 
See poor Puss in the well ; " 

And then, *' Diccory, diccory dock." 
Quick I looked round to see 
What it ever could be, 

When a little mouse ran up the clock. 

Next T saw INIotlier Hubbard 
Go up to her cupboard. 

And grumble to find it so bare ; 
And tliat poor Simple Simon 
Walk up to a pieman. 

And beg for a taste of his ware. 

And I heard mamma tell 
What each piggy befell, 

And I saw baby dance up and down ; 
And the fair Queen of Hearts, 
Busy making her tarts. 

With, oh dear! such a o-littering: crown. 



And I saw poor ]Miss Muffet 
Jump up from her tuffet, 



PRBIARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 85 

And the spider that frightened her, too ; 
And just then rustled by, 
On her way to the sk}^ 

The old dame on a broomstick that flew. 

I saw little Miss Mary, 

So very contrary, 

AVho walks where the purple-bells grow; 
And the man Avith a drum, 
Just as big as your thumb. 

And the old cock beginning to crow. 

Oh, that day last December, 
Whene'er I remember. 

Other days dull and stupid all seem. -^ 
Oh, that wonderful day! 
But why will they all say, 

*' It was nothing at all but a dream "? 

M. H. F. D. 



THE MINUET. 

BY PEKXISSIOX. 

Grandma told me all about it. 
Told me so I couldn't doubt if. 

How she danced — my gi'andma danced, 

Long ago. 
How she held her pretty head, 
How her dainty skirt she spread, 
How she turned her little toes — 
Smiling little human rose ! 

Lono; ao;o. 

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny ; 

Dimpled cheeks, too, — ah, how funny ! 

Really quite a pretty girl. 

Long ago. 
Bless her! why, she wears a cap, 
Grandma does, and takes a nap 
Every single day ; and yet 
Grandma danced the minuet 

Lono; aoTQ. 



86 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Now she sits there, rocking, rocking, 
Alvva^^s knitting grandpa's stocking — 
(Every girl was taught to knit 
Long ago) ; 
Yet her figure is so neat. 
And lier way so staid and sweet, 
I can ahnost see her now, 
Bending to her partner's bow, 
Long ago. 

Grandma says our modern jumping. 
Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping. 

Would have shocked the gentle folk. 
Long ago. 
No — they moved with stately grace, 
Everything in proper place. 
Gliding slowly forward, then 
Slowly courtesying back again, 
Long ago. 

Modern ways are quite alarming. 
Grandma says ; but boys were charming — 
Girls and boys, t mean, of course — 

Long ago. 
Bravel}^ modest, grandly shy — 
What if all of us should try 
Just to feel like those who met 
In the graceful minuet 

Long ago. 

With the minuet in fashion. 
Who could fly into a passion? 

All would wear the calm they w^ore. 
Long ago. 
In time to come, if I perchance. 
Should tell my ^grandchild of our dance, 
I should really like to say, 
"We did it, dear, in some such way, 
Long ago." 
Mes. Mary Mapes Dodge, in St. Nicholas. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 87 

A FABLE. 

BY AERAXGEMEXT WITH HOUGHTON, 3IIFFLIX & CO. 

The mountain and the squirrel 

Had a quarrel ; 

And the former called the latter " Little Prig." 

Bim replied, 

" You are doubtless yevy big; 

But all sorts of things and weather 

Must be taken in together, 

To make up a year 

And a sphere. 

And I think it no disgrace 

To occupy my place. 

If I'm not so large as you. 

You are not so small as I, 

And not half so spry. 

I'll not deny you make 

A very pretty squirrel track ; 

Talents differ ; all is well and wisely put ; 

If I cannot carry forests on my back, 

Neither can you crack a nut."' 

R. W. Emersox. 



DAISY'S MISTAKE. 

BY PERMISSION. 

*' To-MORKOTv: I'm going to Sunday-school," 
She said, with a skip and prance ; 

** Now wait a moment, baby dear. 
Till I show you how 1*11 dance." 

With pretty joy on her sober face. 

And her dainty skirt outspread, 
Our dimpled Daisy began to show 

Tlie measure she meant to tread. 

"Ho, baby! " she cried, with courtesying dips, 

" I'll' go tJiis way, and this, — 
I'll be a good girl at the Sunday-school, 

And never a step I'll miss." 



88 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Of the danciDg-school and its rare delights 
She had learned from playmates gay. 

What wonder that now, while her parents planned, 
Her little head went astray ! 

The happy Sunday had come and gone, 

When Daisy, now wiser grown. 
Was asked how she danced at Sunday-school, 

And whether she danced alone. 

*' O' course not," answered the little maid, — 

"'Course, childrens never do. 
Do you fink /would dance at Sunday-school? 

I'm really ashamed of you! " 

Mrs. E. McKean Ely, in St. Nicholas. 



TWO OF THEM. 

BY PERMISSION. 

A BROOK and wee Elsie 

Were playing together, 
One frolicsome day 

Of the sunshiny weather. 
At "tag " and ''bo-peep; " 

Naughty creatures were they, 
For the brook and wee Elsie 

Had both run away. 

One time when they j^aused 

In a lovely cool place, 
Elsie saw in the water 

Pier round, dimpled face ; 
And, *' How funny! " she said. 

With a wondering look, — 
**Now, hbw could my face 

Get into the brook ? " 

A half minnte later, 

A ^ypsying bee 
Left Elsie in tears. 

Sorry object to see. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 89 

** Here's another queer problem," 

The little brook cries, 
" ISTow, how did I ever 

Get into her e3^es ? " 
Mrs. Carrie W. T. Bronson, in St. Nicholas. 



PUSSY'S CLASS. 

BY PERMISSION. 

** Now, children," said Puss, as she shook her head, 
"It is time your morning lesson was said." 
So her kittens drew near with footsteps slow, 
And sat down before her all in a row. 

"Attention, class!" said the cat-mamma, 
"And tell me quick where your noses are! " 
At this all the kittens sniffed in the air. 
As though it were filled with a perfume rare. 

" Now, what do you say when you want a drink? " 
The kittens waited a moment to think ; 
And then the answer came clear and loud — 
You ought to have heard how those kittens meow'd ! 

"Very well. 'Tis the same, with a sharper tone. 
When you want a fish or a bite of a bone. 
Now what do you say Avhen children are good? " 
And the kittens purred as soft as they could. 

*' And what do you do when children are bad? 
When they tease and pull? " Each kitty looked sad. 
"Pooh! " said their mother. " That isn't enough; 
You must use your claws when children are rough. 

"And where are your claws? No, no, my dear" 
(As she took up a paw). " See! they're hidden here." 
Then all the kittens crowded about 
To see their sharp little claws brought out. 

The}' felt quite sure the}^ should never need 
To use such weapons — oh, no, indeed ! 
But their wise mamma gave a pussy's '' psliaiv ' " 
And boxed their ears with her softest paw. 



90 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

" 1^0 w sptiss! as hard as you can," she said; 

But every kitten hung down its head. 

'* Sptiss! I say," cried the mother-cat; 

But they said, " O mamma, we can't do that! " 

" Then go and play," said the fond mamma; 
" What sweet little idiots kittens are! 
Ah, well! I was once the same, I suppose." 
And she looked very wise, and rubbed her nose. 

Mary Mapes Dodge, in Rhymes and Jingles. 



ALL THE CHILDREN^. 

I SUPPOSE if all the children 

Who have lived tlirough ages long 
Were collected and inspected, 

They would make a wondrous throng. 
Oh, the babble of the Babel! 

Oh, the flutter of the fuss ! 
To begin with Cain and Abel, 

And to finish up with us ! 

Who would wash their smiling faces? 

Who their saucy ears would box ? 
Who would dress them, and caress them? 

Who would darn their little socks ? 
Where are arms enough to hold them ? 

Hands to pat each shining head ? 
Who would praise them? who would scold them? 

Who would pack them off to bed? 

Only think of the confusion * 

Such a motley crowd would make ; 
And the clattei' of their chatter. 

And the things that they would break! 
Oh, the babble of the Babel! 

Oh, the flutter of the fuss ! 
To begin with Cain and Abel, 

And to finish up with us ! 

Anonymous. 



PEniARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 91 



XA]MIXG THE BABY. 

You have birds in a cage, and yonVe beautiful flowers, 

But you haven't at your house what we have at ours; 

'Tis the prettiest thing that you ever did see, 

Just as dear and as precious as precious can be. 

'Tis my own baby sister, just seven days old, 

And too little for any but grown folks to hold. 

Oh, I know you would love her ; she's fresh as a rose. 

And she has such a queer, tiny bit of a nose. 

And the dearest and loveliest pink little toes. 

Which, I tell mother, seem only made to be kissed ; 

And she keeps her wee hand doubled up in a fist. 

She is quite without hair, but she's beautiful eyes — 

And she always looks pretty except Avhen she cries. 

And what name we shall give her there's no one can tell, 

For my father says Sarah, and mother likes Belle ; 

And my gi*eat-uncle John — he's an old-fiishioned man — 

Wants her named for his wife that is dead — Mary Ann. 

But the name / have chosen the darling to call, 

Is a name that is prettier far than them all. 

And to give it to Baby my heart is quite set — 

It is Violet Martha Rose Stella Marzette. 

Mariax Douglas. 



PRETTY LITTLE! 

A PRETTY little maiden had a pretty little dream, 

A pretty little wedding was her pretty little theme ; 

A pretty little bachelor to win her flivor tried, 

And asked her how she'd like to be his pretty little bride. 

With some pretty little blushes and a pretty little sigh. 
And some pretty little glances from her pretty little eye, 
With a pretty little face behind her pretty little fon. 
She smiled on the proposals of this pretty little man. 

Some pretty little "loves," and some pretty little "dears," 
Some pretty little smiles, and some pretty little tears. 
Some pretty little presents, and a j^retty little kiss. 
Were the pretty little preludes to some"^ i^retty little bliss. 



92 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

This pretty little lady, and her pretty little spark, 
Met the pretty little parson and his pretty little clerk; 
A pretty little wedding-ring- united them for life — 
A pretty little husband and a pretty little wife. 

Anonymous. 



WHAT THEY SAY. 

BY PERMISSION. 

What does the drum say? '*Riib-a-dnb-dub! 
Rnb-a-dnb, rnb-a-dub ! Pound away, bub ! 
Make as much racket as ever you can, 
Rub-a-dub! rub-a-dub! Go it, my man! " 

What does the trumpet say? " Toot-a-toot-too ! 
Toot-a-toot, toot-a-toot ! Hurrah for you ! 
Blow in the end, sir, and hold me out, so. 
Toot-a-toot! toot-a-toot! Why don't you blow? " 

What does the whip say? " Snapperty-snap! 
Call that a crack, sir — flipperty-tiap! 
Up with the hurdle, and down with the lash. 
Snapperty! snapperty! Done in a flash." 

What does the gun say? " Put in my stick, 
I'm a real pop-gun. Fire me quick! 
See that you fire in nobody's eye. 
Steady! my manikin. Now let it fly! " 

What does the sword say? " Swishy-an-swish ! 
Flash in the sunlight, and give me a wish. 
Wish I was real, sir — cut 'em in bits ! 
Wouldn't I scare all the world into fits ! " 

What do they all say, trumpet and gun, 

Whip, sword, and drum-stick? " Hurrah for fun! 

Babies no longer, but stout little men. 

Racket forever! and racket again! " 

Mary Mapes Dodge, in Rhymes and Jingles. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 93 



THE FAMILY CAT. 

A KITTEN came in one rainy day, 
With a look in its eyes thnt seemed to say, 
" If you've no objection I'd like to stay." 
It was cold and wet with the driving rain. 
And hungry, too, that was very plain : 
To send it off on its travels again 
I hadn't the heart; although, indeed. 
Cook said that she couldn't see the need 
Of another cat in the house to feed. 
" It's afther iightin' the bastes all be. 
An' scratchin' ache ither's eyes," said she; 
" For two of a kind don't niver agree." 

But just to try the family cat, 
I put my kitten down on the mat 
Where Madame Pussy already sat. 
A saucer of milk and some bits of meat 
I set in the space between their feet. 
And waited to see them begin to eat. 
Tlie kitten snuffed with a hungry look. 
And stared at the cat, at me, and the cook, 
But never a single morsel took. 
"The crachure 's afraid," said cook to me. 
" Look at the ould one, jist! " said she. 
" Didn't I tell yez how it ud be? " 

Slowly the family cat arose. 

She arched her back, and she spread her toes — 

The thoughts that were in her breast, who knows ? 

*' Oh, Pussy-cat-mew! " said I, " for shame! 

I wouldn't have thought it of one of your name." 

'' Faith," said Bridget, "I wud, that'^same! 

It's jist the nachure of bastes like thim 

To worret ache ither, limb from limb. 

And ye'll remimber I tould you, mim! " 

The family cat turned round at this. 

And 1 truly tell you nothing amiss. 

She answered the cook with a scornful — ''sptiss!" 



94 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

It was just as plain as if she had said, 
'* You've taken that notion in your head 
Because you are vulgar and underbred ; 
Please to observe " — with a dignified purr — 
" That I know what is due to myself and her, 
And shall do my duty, whatever occur." 
And thereupon, with a friendly grace. 
She Avashed the poor little kitten's face, 
And licked each whisker into its place! 
" If iver I see the batin's o' that! " 
Cried cook, as down with a flop she sat ; 
But I was proud of the family cat. 

Anonymous. 



TOPSY-TURVY WORLD. 

If the butterfly courted the bee. 

And the owl the porcupine ; 
If churches were built in the sea. 

And three times one were nine ; 
If the pony rode his master ; 

If the buttercups ate the cows ; 
If the cat had the dire disaster 

To be worried, sir, by the mouse ; 
If mamma, sir, sold the baby 

To a gypsy for half-a-crown ; 
If a gentleman, sir, were a lady, — 

The world would be u]3side down! 
If any or all of these v\^onders 

Should ever come about, 
I should not consider them blunders. 

For I should be inside-out ! 

LiLLiPUT Levee. 



THE PARSON'S SOCIABLE. 

They carried the pie to the parson's hou^e. 
And scattered the floor with crumbs, 

And marked the leaves of his choicest books 
With the prints of their greasy thumbs. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 95 

They piled his dishes high and thick 

With a lot of nnhealthful cake. 
While they gobbled the buttered toast and rolls 

Which the parson's wife did make. 

They hung around Clytie's. classic neck 

Their apple-parings, for sport, 
And every one laughed when a clumsy lout 

Spilt his tea in the piano-forte. 

Next day the parson went down on his knees 

With his wife — but not to pray : 
Oh, no ; 'twas to scrape the grease and dirt 

From the carpet and stairs away * 

Anonymous. 



JOHISr BOTTLEJOHX. 

BY PER3IISSIOX. 

Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill. 

And a blithe little man was he ; 
And he won the heart of a little mermaid 

Who lived in the deep blue sea. 
And every evening she used to sit 

And sing on the rocks by the sea : 
*'0h, little John Bottlejohn! pretty John Bottlejohn! 

Won't you come out to me? " 

Little John Bottlejohn heard her song, 

And he opened his little door ; 
And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he 
hopped. 

Until he came down to the shore. 
And there on a rock sat the little mermaid, 

And still she was singing so free : 
"Oh, little John Bottlejohn! pretty John Bottlejohn! 

Won't you come out to me? " 

Little John Bottlejohn made a bow. 

And the mermaid, she made one, too ; 
And she said : "• Oh, I never saw anything half 

So perfectly sweet as you ! 



96 . PPaMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

In my beautiful home, 'neath the ocean foam, 

How happy we both should be ! 
Oh, little John Bottlejohn! pretty »Iohn Bottlejohn! 

Won't you come down with me? " 

Little John Bottlejohn said : " Oh, yes, 

I'll willingly go with you ; 
And I never will quail at the sight of your tail, 

For perhaps I may grow one, too! " 
So he took her hand, and he left the land. 

And he plunged in the foaming main ; 
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn, 

Never was seen again. 

Laura E. Richards, in St. Nicholas. 



TEN LITTLE INJUNS. 

Ten little Injuns standing in a line ; 

One toddled home, and then there were nine. * 

Nine little Injuns swinging on a gate ; 

One tumbled off, and then there were eight. 

Eight little Injuns never heard of heaven ; 

One kicked the bucket, and then there were seven. 

Seven little Injuns cutting up tricks; 

One broke his neck, and then there were six. 

Six little Injuns kicking, all alive; 

One went to bed, and then there were five. 

Five little Injuns on a cellar-door ; 

One tumbled in, and then there were four. 

Four little Injuns out on a spree; 

One got drunk, and then there were three. 

Tln-ee little Injuns out in a canoe; 

One tumbled overboard, and then there were two. 

Two little Injuns foolin' with a gun; 
One shot t'other, and then there was one. 
One little Injun livin' all alone; 
He got married, and then there were none. 

Anonymous. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKERo 97 



A LITTLE BOY'S POCKET. 

Do 3^ou know what's in my pottet? 

Such a lot of treasures in it! 

Listen now while I bedin it ; 

Such a lot of sins it hold, 

And all there is, you sail be told ; 
Everysin dat's in my pottet. 
And when, and where, and how I dot it. 

First of all, here's in my pottet 

A beauty shell — I picked it up; 

And here's the handle of a tup 

That somebodyhas broke at tea ; 

The shell 's a hole in it, you see ; 
Nobody knows that I have dot it, 
I keep it safe here in my pottet. 

And here's my ball, too, in my pottet, 
And here's my pennies, one, two, free, 
That Aunty Mary gave to me ; 
To-morroAV-da}^ I'll buy a spade, 
When I'm out Valking Avith the maid, 

But I can't put dat here in ni}^ pottet. 

But I can use it when I've dot it. 

Here's some more sins in my pottet! 

Here's my lead, and here's my string. 

And once I had an iron ring, 

But through a hole it lost one day ; 

And this is what I always say — 
A hole 's the worst sin in a pottet, 
Have it mended when you've dot it. 

Anonymous. 



THE NEW SLATE. 

BY PERMISSION. 

See my new slate ! I dot it new 

Cos I b'oke. the other. 
Put my 'ittle foot right froo, 

Runnin' after mother. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

I tan make you lots o' sings, 

Fass as you tan tell 'em, 
T's and B's and big O rings, 

Only I can't spell 'em. 

I tan make a funny pig, 

Wid a truly tail-y, 
'Ittle eyes, and snout so big 

Fokin' in a pail-y. 

I tan make a elephant, 

Wid his trunk a-hangin' ; 
An' a boy — who says I tan't? — 

Wid his dun a-bangin' 

An' the smoke a-tummin' out, 

(Wid my t'umb I do it, 
Rubbin' all the white about,) 

Sparks a-fiying froo it. 

I can make a bu-ful house, 

Wid a tree behind it, 
And a little mousy-mouse 

Runnin' round to find it. 

I tan put my hand out flat 

On the slate, and draw it; 
(Ticklin' is the worst of that!) 

Did you ever saw it? 

I tan draw me runnin' 'bout — 

Mamma's 'ittle posset 
(Slate so dust3^ rubbin' out, 

Dess oo'd better wass it). 

Now then, s'all I make a tree 

Wid ajoirdie in it? 
All my pictures 5'ou s'all see 

If you'll wait a minute. 

No, I dess I'll make a man 

Juss like Uncle Roily. 
See it tummin', fass it tan! 

Bet my slate is jolly ! 
Mary Mapes Dodge, in Rhymes and Jingles. 



PRniARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 99 



BLACK SPIDERS. 

" Little Miss Muffet 

Sat on a tuffet 
Eating curds and whey: 

Tliere came a black spider 

And sat down beside her, 
And frightened ]\Iiss Muffet away." 

To all mortal blisses, 

From comlits to kisses. 
There's sm;e to be something by way of alloy; 

Each new expectation 

Brings fresh aggi'avation, 
And a doubtful amalgam 's the best of our joy. 

You may sit on your tuftet ; 

Yes, — cushion and stuff it; 
And provide what you please, if you don't fancy whey; 

But before you can eat it. 

Therein be — I repeat it — 
Some sort of black spider to come in the way. 

From Mother Goose for Y^oung Folks. 



THE OWL AXD THE PUSSY-CAT. 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea 

In a beautiful pea-green boat ; 
They took some honey, and plenty of money 

Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
The owl looked up to the moon above, 

And sang to a small guitar, 
*'0 lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love! 

What a beautiful Pussy you are. 
You are. 

What a beautiful Pussy you are ! " 

Pussy said to the owl, " You elegant fowl, 

How wonderful sweet you sing! 
O let us be married, — too long we have tarried, - 

But what shall we do for a ring:? " 



100 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

They sailed away for a year and a day 
To the land where the Bong-tree grows. 

And there in a wood, a piggy- wig stood 
With a ring in the end of his nose, 

His nose, 
With a ring in the end of his nose. 

" Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 

Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will." 
So they took it away, and were married next day 

By the turkey who lives on the hill. 
They dined uj^on mince and slices of quince. 

Which they ate with a suncible spoon. 
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand. 

They danced by the light of the moon. 
The moon. 

They danced by the light of the moon. 

Edward Lear. 



TRIALS OF A TWIN. 

In form and feature, face and limb, 

I grew so like my brother, 
That folks got taking me for him. 

And each for one another. 
It puzzled all oar kith and kin. 

It reached a fearful pitch ; 
For one of us was born a twin. 

And not a soul knew which. 

One day, to make the matter worse. 

Before our names were fixed. 
As we were being washed by nurse, 

We got completely mixed ; 
And thus, you see, by fate's decree, 

Or rather nurse's whim. 
My brother John got christened me, 

And I got christened him. 

This fatal likeness ever dogged 
My footsteps when at scliool, 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 101 

And I was always getting flogged. 

When John turned out a fool. 
I put this question, fruitlessly, 

To every one I knew, 
*' What would you do, if you were me. 

To prove that you were you? " 

Our close resemblance turned the tide 

Of our domestic life. 
For somehow, my intended bride 

Became my brothers wife. 
In fact, year after year the same 

Absurd mistake went on, 
And iclien I died, the neighbors came. 

And buried brother John. 

Anonymous. 



THE DEAD DOLL. 

BY PERMISSION. 

You needn't be trying to comfort me — I tell you my dolly 

is dead ! 
There's no use saying she isn't, with a crack like that in 

her head. 
It's just like you said it wouldn't hurt much to have my 

tooth out, that day; 
And then, when the man 'most pulled my head off, you 

hadn't a word to say. 

And I guess you must think I'm a baby, when you say you 

can mend it with glue ! 
As if I didn't know better than that! Why, just suppose it 

was you. 
You might make her look all mended — but what do I care 

for looks? 
Why, glue's for chairs and tables, and toys, and the back 

of books ! 

My dolly ! my own little daughter ! oh, but it's the a^yfulest 

crack ! 
It just makes me sick to think of the sound when her poor 

head went whack — 



102 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Against that horrible brass thing that holds up the little 

shelf. 
Now, nursey, what makes you remind me? I know that I 

did it myself ! 

I think you must be crazy — you'll get her another head ! 
What good would forty heads do her? I tell you my dolly 

is dead I 
And to think I hadn't quite finished her elegant new spring 

hat! 
And I took a sweet ribbon of hers last night to tie on that 

horrid cat! 

When my mamma gave me that ribbon — I was playing 

out in the yard — 
She said to me, most expressly, "Here's a ribbon for Hilde- 

garde." 
And I went and put it on Tabby, and Hildegarde saw me 

do it; 
But I said to myself, "Oh, never mind, I don't believe she 

knew it!" 

But I know that she knew it now, and I just believe, I do. 
That her poor little heart was broken, and so her head 

broke too. 
Oh, my baby! my. little baby! I wish my head had been hit! 
For I've hit it over and over, and it hasn't cracked a bit. 

But since my darling is dead, she'll want to be buried, of 

course ; 
We will take my little wagon, nurse, and you shall be the 

horse ; 
And I'll walk behind and cry; and we'll put her in this, 

you see — 
This dear little box — and we'll bury her there under the 

maple-tree. 

And papa will make me a tombstone, like the one he made 

for my bird ; 
And he'll put what I tell him on it — yes, every single word ! 
I shall say: " Here lies Hildegarde, a beautiful doll, who is 

dead ; 
She died of a broken heart, and a dreadful crack in her 

head." 

Margaret Vandegrift, in St. Nicholas. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 103 



A BABY'S SOLILOQUY. 

I AM here. And if this is what they call the loorld, I don't 
think much of it. It's a very fianneliy world, and smells of 
paregoric awfully. It's a dreadful light world, too, and 
makes me blink, I tell you. And I don't know what to do 
with my hands; I think I'lLdig my fists in my eyes. No, I 
won't. I'll scratch at the corner of my blanket and chew it 
np, and then I'll holler ; whatever happens, I'll holler. And 
the more paregoric they give me, the louder I'll yell. That 
old nurse puts the spoon in the corner of my mouth, side- 
wise like, and keeps tasting my milk herself all the while. 
She spilt snulf in it last night, and, when I hollered, she 
trotted me. That comes of being a two-days'-old baby. 
Never mind: when I'm a man I'll pay her back good. 
There's a pin sticking in me now, and if say a word about 
it, I'll be trotted or fed ; and I would rather have catnip-tea. 
I'll tell you who I am. I found out to-day. I heard folks 
say, "Hush! don't wake up Emeline's baby;" and I sup- 
pose that pretty, white-faced woman over on the pillow is 
Emeline. 

No, I Avas mistaken ; for a chap was in here just now and 
wanted to see Bob's baby; and looked at me and said I was 
a funny little toad, and looked just like Bob. He smelt of 
cigars. I wonder who else I iDclong to! Yes, there's an- 
other one — that's "Gamma." "It was Gamma's baby, so 
it was." I declare, I do not know who I belong to; but Til 
holler, and maybe I'll find out. There comes snufiH" with 
catnip-tea. I'm going to sleep. I wonder Avhy my hands 
won't go where I want them to ! 

_^__ Anonymous. 

BY TELEPHONE TO FAIRY-LAND.^ 

BY PERMISSION. , 

Connect me with Fairy-land, please, pretty Vine, 
With the Fairy Queen's palace of pearl, 

And ask if her Highness will hear through your line 
A discoura^-ed and sad little o:irl. 

* As this poem was originally printed, the little ofirl was represented 
as whisperinof her message into a bell-shaped flower, still connected 
with the parent-vine. 



104 PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Queen, I'm so grieved 'cause my dolly won't play. 
And so tired of pretending it all! 

1 must walk for her, talk for her, he her all day, . 
While she sits still and stares at the wall. 

Her house is so pretty, with six little rooms, 

And it has truly windows and doors. 
And stairs to go up, and nice carjoets and brooms — 

For I do the sweeping, of course. 

There's a tea-set, and furniture fit for a queen, 

And a trunk full of dresses besides ; 
And a dear little carriage as ever was seen. 

And I am her horse when she rides. 

But never a smile nor a thank have I had. 

Nor a nod of her hard, shiny head ; 
And is it a wonder I'm weary and sad? 

For I can't love a dolly so dead. 

I thought I would ask you if, in your bright train. 

You hadn't one fairy to spare, 
A naughty one, even, — I shouldn't complain, 

But would love it with tenderest care, — 

Or a poor little one who had lost its briglit wings, — 

I should cherish it not a bit less, — 
And, besides, they'd get crushed with the sofas and 
things. 

And be so inconvenient to dress. 

O Queen of the Fairies, so happy I'll be 

If you'll only just send one to try ; 
I'll be back again soon after dinner to see 
If you've left one here for me. Good-by ! 

Helen K. Spofford, in St. NicnoLAs. 



AUNT TABITHA. 

BY ARRANGEMENT WITH HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

Whatever I do and whatever I say, 
Aunt Tabitha tells me that isn't the way; 
When she was a girl (forty summers ago), 
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so. 



PRniARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 105 

Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice — 
But I like my own way, and I find it so nice! 
And besides, I forget half the things I am told ; 
But they all will come back to me when I am old. 

If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt, 
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out. 
She would never endure an impertinent stare ; 
It is horrid, she says, and I mustn't sit there. 

A walk in the moonlight has pleasure, I own. 
But it isn't quite safe to be walking alone ; 
So I take a lad's arm, — just for safety, you know, — 
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they didn't do so. 

How wicked we are, and how good they were then ! 
They kept at arms'-length those detestable men; 
Wliat an era of viitue she lived in! — but stay — 
Were the men such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day ? 

If the men icere so wicked — I'll ask my papa 
How he dared to propose to my darling mamma? 
Was he like the rest of them? goodness! who knows? 
And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose ? 

I am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin, 
What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been! 
And her grand-aunt — it scares me — how shockingly sad 
That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad ! 

A martyr will save us, and nothing else can ; 
Let us perish to rescue some ^vi-etched young man! 
Though when to the altar a victim I go. 
Aunt Tabitha '11 tell me — she never did so. 

Oliver AVexdell Holmes. 



THE CROW'S CHILDREN. 

A huxts:max, bearing his gun afield, 

Went whistling merrily ; 
When he heard the blackest of black crows 

Call out from a withered tree : — 



106 PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

" You are going to kill the thievish birds, 

And I would if I were you ; 
But you mustn^t touch my family, 

Whatever else you do! " 

" I'm only going to kill the birds 

That are eating up my crop ; 
And if your young ones do such things, 

Be sure they'll have to stop." 

" Oh," said the crow, "my children 

Are the best ones ever born ; 
There isn't one among them all 

Would steal a grain of corn." 

" But how shall I know which ones they are? 

Do they resemble you? " 
"Oh," said the crow, "they're the prettiest birds, 
: And the whitest that ever tiew! " 

So off went the sportsman, whistling. 

And off, too, went his gun ; 
And its startling echoes never ceased 

Again till the day was done. 

And the old crow sat untroubled, 

CaAving away in her nook; 
For she said, " He'll never kill my birds. 

Since I told him how they look. 

" Now there's the hawk, my neighbor, 
She'll see what she will see, soon. 

And that saucy, wliistling blackbird 
May have to change his tune! " 

When, lo ! she saw the hunter, 

Taking his homeward track, 
With a string of crows as long as his gun, - 

Hanging down his back, 

"Alack, alack! " said the mother, 
"What in the world have you done? 

You promised to spare my pretty birds, 
And you've killed them every one." 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 107 

"Your birds! " said the puzzled hunter; 

" Why, I found them in my corn; 
And besides, they are black and ugly 

As any that ever were born! " 

*' Get out of my sight, you stupid! " 

Said the angriest of crows ; 
*' How good and fair the children are, 

There's none but a parent knows ! " 

" Ah! I see, I see," said the hunter, 

" But not as you do, quite; 
It takes a mother to be so blind 

She can't tell black from white! " 

Phcebe Cart. 



VICTUALS AND DRINK. 

*' There once was a woman, 

And Avhat do you think ? 
She lived upon nothing 

But victuals and drink. 
Victuals and drink 

Were the chief of her diet, 
And yet this poor Avoman 

Scarce ever was quiet." 

And were you so foolish 

As really to think 
That all she could want 

AVas her victuals and drink ? 
And that while she was furnished 

With that sort of diet, 
Her feeling and fancy 

Would starve, and be quiet? 

Mother Goose knew far better ; 

But thought it sufficient 
To give a mere hint 

That the fare was deficient ; 
For I do not believe 

She could ever have meant 
To imply there was reason 

For being content. 



108 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Yet the mass of mankind 

Is uncommonly slow 
To acknowledge the fact 

It behooves them to know ; 
Or to learn that a woman 

Is not like a mouse, 
Needing nothing but cheese, 

And the walls of a house. 

But just take a man — 

Shut him up for a day ; 
Get his hat and his cane, — 

Put them snugly away ; 
Give him stockings to mend. 

And three sumptuous meals ; 
And then ask him, at night. 

If you dare, how he feels ! 
Do you think he will quietly 

Stick to the stocking. 
While you read the news, 

And *' don't care about talking ''? 

From Mother Goose for Grown Folks. 



THE FIRST PARTY. 

BY PERMISSION. 

Miss Annabel McCarty 

Was invited to a party, 
** Your company from four to ten,'"* the invitation said ; 

And the maiden was delighted 

To think she was invited 
To sit up till the hour when the big folks went to bed. 

The crazy little midget 

Ran and told the news to Bridget, 
Who clapped her hands, and danced a jig, to AnnabePs de- 
light. 

And said, with accents hearty, 

** 'Twill be the swatest party. 
If ye're there yerself, me darlint! I wish it was to-night!" 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 109 

The great display of frilling 

Was positively killing ; 
And, oh, the little booties! and the lovely sash so wide! 

And the gloves so very cunning ! 

She was altogether '* stunning," 
And the whole McCarty fiimily regarded her with pride. 

They gave minute directions, 

With copious interjections 
Of " sit up straight! " and " don't do this or that — 'tAVOuld 
be absurd ! " 

But what with their caressing, 

And the agony of dressing, 
Miss Annabel McCarty did not hear a single word. 

There was music, there was dancing. 

And the sight was most entrancing, 
As if fairy land and floral band were holding jubilee; 

There was laughing, there was pouting; 

There was singing, there was sliouting ; 
And the old and young together made a carnival of glee. 

Miss Annabel INIcCarty 

Was the youngest at the jjarty, 
And every one remarked she was beautifully dressed ; 

Like a doll she sat demurely 

On the sofa, thinking surely 
It would never do for her to run and frolic with the rest. 

The noise kept growing louder ; 

The naughty bo3's would crowd her ; 
"I think you're very rude indeed! '' the little lady said; 

And then, without a warning. 

Her home instructions scorning, 
She screamed : " I want my supper, and I want to go to bed." 

Xow, big folks who are older, 
Xeed not laugh at her nor scold her. 
For doubtless, if the truth were known, we've often felt 
inclined 
To leave the ball or party, 
As did Annabel McCarty, 
But we hadn't half the courage, and we couldn't speak our 
mind. 
JosEPHi2s^E Pollard, in St. Nicholas. 



110 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



ENTERTAINING HER BIG SISTER'S BEAU. 

*' My sister '11 be down in a minute, and sa^^s you 're to wait, 

if you please. 
And says I might stay till she came, if I'd promise her 

never to tease, 
Nor speak till you spoke to me first. But that's nonsense, 

for how would you know 
What she told me to say, if 1 didn't? Don't you really and 

truly think so? 

"And then you'd feel strange here alone ! And you wouldn't 

know just where to sit; 
For that chair isn't strong on its legs, and ' we ' never use it 

a bit. 
We keep it to match with the sofa. Biit Jack says it would 

be like you 
To flop yourself right down upon it, and knock out the very 

last screw. 

"S'pose you try! I won't tell. You're afraid to! Oh! 

you're afraid they would think it was mean ! 
Well, then, there's the album — that's pretty, if you're sure 

that your fingers are clean. 
For sister says sometimes I daub it; but she only says that 

when she's cross. 
There's her picture. You know it? It's like her; but she 

ain't as good-looking, of course! 

*'Tliis is me. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell me, you'd 

never have thought 
That once I was little as that? It's the onl}^ one that could 

be bought — 
For that was the message to pa from the photograph man 

where I sat. 
That he wouldn't print off any more till he first got his 

money for that. 

"What? Maybe you're tired of waiting. Why, often she's 

longer than this. 
There's all her back hair to do up, and all of her front curls 
to friz. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. Ill 

But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown people, 

-just you and me. 
Do you think you'll be coming here often? Oh, do! But 

don't come like Tom Lee. 

*' Tom Lee — her last beau. Why, my goodness, he used to 

be here day and night, 
Till the folks thought he'd he her husband ; and Jack says 

that gave him a fright. 
You won't run away, then, as he did? For you're not a 

rich man, they say ; 
Pa sa^'s you are poor as a church-mouse. Xow, are you? 

And how poor are they? 

*'Ain't you glad that you met me? Well, I am ; for I know 

now your hair isn't red ; 
But Avhat there's left of it's mousy, and not Avhat that 

naughty Jack said. 
But there! I must go; sister's coming. But I wish I could 

Avait, just to see 
If she ran up to you and kissed you in the way that she used 

to kiss Lee." 

F. Bret Harte, ix the Ixdepexdent. 



CHICKEXS. 



" T didx't ! " says Chip. ** Yon did ! " says Peep. 

*'How do you know? — you were fast asleep," 

*' I Avas under mammy's wing. 

Stretching my legs like anything. 

Wlien all of a sudden I turned around, 

For close beside me I heard a sound — 

A little tip, and a little tap." 

*' Fiddle-de-dee ! You'd had a nap. 

And, when you were onh' half awake, 

Heard an icicle somewhere break." 

" What's an icicle? " " I don't know ; 

Rooster tells about ice and snow, 

Something that isn't as good as meal, 

That drops down on you, and makes you squeal." 



112 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

*'Well! swallow Rooster's tales, I beg! 

And think you didn't come out of an egg ! 

I tell you I heard the old shell break, 

And the first small noise you ever could make ; 

And mammy croodled, and puffed her breast, 

And pushed us farther out of the nest, 

Just to make room enough for you, 

And there's your shell — I say it's true ! " 

Chip looked over his shoulder then. 

And there it lay by the old gray hen — 

Half an egg-shell, chipped and brown, 

And he was a ball of yellow down. 

Clean, and chipper, and smart, and spry. 

With the pertest bill, and the blackest eye. 

** H'm! " said he, with a little perk. 

"That is a wonderful piece of work! 

Peep, you silly 1 don't you see 

That shell isn't nearly as big as me? 

Whatever you say, miss, I declare 

I never, never could get in there! " 

*' You did! " says Peep, " I didn't! " says Cliip. 

With that he gave lier a horrid nip. 

And Peep began to dance and peck. 

And Chip stuck out his wings and neck; 

They pranced, and struck, and capered about. 

Their toes turned in, and their wings S23read oat, 

As angry as two small chicks could be. 

Till Mother Dorking turned to see. 

She cackled, and clucked, and called in vain : 

At it they went, with might and main. 

Till at last the old hen used her beak. 

And Peep and Chip, with many a squeak. 

Staggered off, on either side. 

With a very funny skip and stride. 

" What dreadful nonsense! " said Mother Hen, 

When she heard the story told again ; 

'' You 're bad as. the two-legs that don't have wings, 

Nor feathers, nor combs — the wretched things ! 

That is the way they fight -and talk 

For what isn't worth a mullein-stalk. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 113 

What does it matter, I'd like to know, 
Where you came from, or where you go? 
Keep your temper, and earn your food ; 
I can't scratch worms for a fighting brood. 
I won't have quarrels, I will have peace ; 
I hatched out chickens, so don't be geese ! " 
Chip scratched his ear with his yellow claw, 
The meekest chicken that ever you saw ; 
And Peep in her feathers curled one leg. 
And said to herself — " But he was an eggl " 

Anonymous. 



OVER IN THE MEADOW.=^ 

Over in the meadow. 

In the sand, in the sun. 
Lived an old mother-toad 

And her little toadie one. 
" Wink ! " said the mother ; 

*' I wink," said the one : 
So she winked, and she blinked 

In the sand, in the sun. 

Over in the meadow. 

Where the stream runs blue, 
Lived an old mother-fi^h 

And her little fishes two : 
** Swim ! " said the mother ; 

" We swim," said the two : 
So they swam and they leaped 

Where the stream runs blue. 

Over in the meadow. 

In a hole in a tree, "" 

Lived a mother-bluebird 

And her little birdies three. 
" Sing ! ' ' said the mother ; 

" We sing," said the three : 
So they sang and were glad 

In the hole in the tree. 

* This piece may be rendered very attractively by twelve little chil- 
dren. 



114 PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 

Over in the meadow, 

In the reeds on the shore. 
Lived a mother-muskrat 

And her little ratties four. 
*' Dive! " said the mother; 

" We dive," said the four: 
So they dived and they burrowed 

In the reeds on the shore. 

Over the meadow, 

In a snug beehive. 
Lived a mother-honeybee 

And her little honeys five. 
" Buzz! " said the mother; 

*'We buzz," said the five ; 
So they buzzed and they hummed 

In the snug beehive. 

Over in the meadow, 

In a nest built of sticks. 
Lived a black mother-crow 

And her little crows six. 
" Caw! " said the mother; 

" We caw," said the six : 
So they cawed and they called 

In their nest built of sticks. 

Over in the meadow, 

Where the grass is so even, 
Lived a gaymother-cricket 

And her little crickets seven. 
"Chirp!" said the mother; 

"We chirp," said the seven: 
So they chirped cheery notes 

In the grass soft and even. 

Over in the meadow. 

By the^ld mossy gate, 
Lived a brown mother-lizard 

And her little lizards eight. 
♦'Bask! " said the mother; 

** We bask," said the eight: 
So they basked in the sun 

On the old mossy gate. 



PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 115 

Over in the meadow, 

Where the clear pools shine, 
Lived a green mother-frog 

And her little froggies nine. 
" Croak! " said the mother; 

" We croak," said the nine : 
So they croaked and they plashed 

Where the clear pools shine. 

Over in the meadow, 

In a sly little den, 
Lived a gray mother-spider 

And her little spiders ten. 
*' Spin ! " said the mother ; 

*' We spin," said the ten: 
So they spun lace webs 

In their sly little den. 

Over in the meadow. 

In the soft summer even, 
Lived a mother-firefly 

And her little flies eleven. 
** Shine ! " said the mother ; 

" We shine," said the eleven : 
So they shone like stars 

In the soft summer even. 

Over in the meadow, 

Where the men dig and delve, 
Lived a wise mother-ant 

And her little anties twelve. 
" Toil! " said the mother; 

" We toil," said the twelve: 
So they toiled, and were wise 

Where the men dig and delve. 

Olive A. Wadsworth. 



116 PKIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 



THE JOHNNY-CAKE. 

Little Sarah she stood by her grandmother's bed, 
" And what shall I get for your breakfast? " she said. 
" You shall get me a johnny-cake : quickly go make it," 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it." 

So Sarah she went to the closet to see 

If yet any meal in the barrel might be. 

The barrel had long been as empty as wind ; 

Not a speck of the bright yellow meal could she find. 

But grandmother's johnny-cake — still she must make it, 

In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it. 

She ran to the shop ; but the shopkeeper said, 
" I have none — you must go to the miller, fair maid; 
For he has a mill, and he'll put the corn in it. 
And grind you some nice yellow meal in a minute ; 
But run, or the johnny-cake, how will you make it, 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it.^ " 

Then Sarah she ran every step of the way, ^ 

But the miller said, " No, I have no meal to-day; 

Run, quick, to the cornfield, just over the hill, 

And''if any be there you may fetch it to the mill. 

But, run, or the johnny-cake, how will you make it. 

In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it? " 

She ran to the cornfield — the corn had not grown. 

Though the sun in the blue sky all pleasantl}^ shone. 

" Pretty sun," cried the maiden, " please make the corn 

grow." 
" Pretty maid," the sun said, "I cannot do so." 
" Then grandmother's johnny-cake, how shall I make it, 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it? " 

Then Sarah looked round, and she saw what was wanted; 
The corn could not grow, for no corn had been planted. 
She asked of the farmer to sow her some grain. 
But the farmer he laughed till his sides ached again. 
" Ho! ho! for the johnny-cake, — how can you make it. 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it? " 



PEBIAEY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 117 

The farmer he laughed, and he laughed ont aloud, — 
"And how can I plant till the earth has been ploughed? 
Run, run to the ploughman, and bring him with speed ; 
Hell plough up the ground, and I'll lill it with seed." 
Away, then, ran Sarah, still hoping to make it, 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it. 

The ploughman he ploughed, and the gi-ain it was sown, 
And the sun shed his rays till the corn was all grown. 
It was ground at the mill, and again in her bed 
These words to poor Sarah the grandmother said : 
*' You shall get me a johnny-cake — quickly go make it, 
In one minute mix, and in two minutes bake it." 

Akontmous. 



A Second Success. 



EXHIBITION DAYS. 

By IdlRS. ]yr-A.RY B. C. SI^-AJDE, 

AUTHOR OF "CHILDEEN'S HOUB." 
CONTAINING 

Dialogues, Charades, Plays, Recitations, 
Tableaux, Pantomimes, Black- 
board Exercises, &c. 

FOE 

GRAMMAR AND HIGH SCHOOLS, AND PARLOR 
ENTERTAINMENTS. 



The success which has attended the sale of " The Children's 
Hour," is a guarantee of Mrs. Slade's fitness for the prepara- 
tion of this book. 

Parents and teachers will be greatly aided by it in preparing 
the children for the '-''Exhibition Days." 

1 vol. 16ino. Boards. Price 50 cts, 

SENT BY MAIL, POSTAGE PAID, ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. 



PUBLISHED BY 

HENR-Y A.. YOUIVG & CO. 

13 Bromfield Street, 

BOSTON, MASS, 



WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT IT. 



By MRS. MARY B. C. SLADE, 

EDITOR OF " GOOD TIMES." 

Oontaining Dialogues, Speeches, Motion Songs, Tableaux, 

Charades, Blackboard Exercises, Juvenile Comedies, 

and other Entertainments. 

FOR 

PRIMARY SCHOOLS, KINDERGARTENS, & JUVENILE HOME 
ENTERTAINMENTS. 

FOR ALL SEASOJSrS AND OCCASIONS. 
1 vol. 16irLO. Boards. IPrioe 50 Cents. 



]V. JBi. Journal of f^ducation says: 

No one In this country is better qualified to prepare such a work than 
Mrs. Slade, and a careful examination shows that she has embodied in 
this collection only such exercises and selections as tend to elevate the 
taste and impress the young- with correct moral ideas. The dialogues 
are especially excellent. 

Buffalo Scliool Journal says: 

Among the many books of this kind, we have not seen a better one. 
It has the merit of originality and sprightliness. 

Syracuse Scliool Snlletin says: 

We are very much obliged to Mrs. Slade for getting out this little 
work. We receive letters every day asking us to send the best of just 
such books as this. We have replied that none of them were very good, 
but — or — was as good- as any. Hereafter we shall invariably reply : 
" Mrs. Slade's is the best." So teachers, who write to us for informa- 
tion, may as well send fifty cents, and get the book by return mail. 

IVortli Cliristian Advocate says: 

The pieces are various in character; are generally just what a good 
teacher would wish to introduce into her classes of smaller pupils. 
Brightness, purity, and a cheery tone are their characteristics. 

Sent by mail on receipt of price. 

PUBLISHED BY 

HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., 

13 Bromfieid St., Boston, Mass. 



WHAT PRIMARY TEACHERS NEED. 



National Kindergarten 

Songs and Plays. 

By MES. LOUISE POLLOCK, 

Principal of Kindergarten Formal Institute, "Washington, D. C. 



^^The New England Journal of Education" says: 
This little manual contains charming songs for the opening 
and closing of school sessions, for marching, for gymnastic and 
ball games, for illustrating nature, for use in illustrating trades 
and industries, conversational and moral songs, and arm, hand, 
and finger plays and songs, suited to young children in the kin- 
dergarten and primary schools. Mrs. Pollock is widely and 
well known as an enthusiastic and thoroughly-educated teacher 
of the principles of Froebel ; and in preparing this book of sweet 
songs, and choice prose recitations, she has made a valuable 
contribution to the aids of teachers of young children. These 
songs are to be taught by rote, and will help to develop the ear 
for music, as well as interest them in their exercises. 
One Vol. l^mo. Bds. 50 cts. 
SENT BY MAIL. POSTAGE PAID, OX RECEIPT OF PRICE. 



HENRY A. YOUNG & CO. 
13 Bromfield St., Boston, Mass- 



The Booh that Sunday School Superintendents 
have been looking for. 



By MRS. MARY B. C. SLADE. 

CONTAINING EXERCISES FOR 

Christmas and New Year, 

Palm Sunday and Easter, 

Children's Day, and 

Memorial Days. 

ALSO, 

DIALOGTIES, SPEECHES, AND RECITATIONS, FOR 
BOYS AND GIRLS, 

Singly or in Classes, &c., &e. 



Mrs. Slade's long experience in this work eminently fits 
her for the preparation of a book of this character. 

It is, without exception, the best book of this kind ever 
published, and will be found invaluable to superintendents in 
the preparation of Sunday School Concerts. 

1 vol. 16ino. Soards. Price 50 cts. 

SEN-r BV MAIL, POSTAGE PAID, ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. 



PUBLISHED BY 

HEIVRY A. YOXJIVG & CO. 

13 BromfielcL Street, 

BOSTON, MASS, 



"" 




■" 




THE BRIGHTEST AND BEST. 




We have now ready the best Speaker for Primary Classes yet issued, entitled 




O X Xj IVI O :E=L 3ES ' s 






PRIMARY SCHOOL SPEAKER. 






Edited iDy FROin. J. H. G^ILMOJRE:, 






UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER. 






We annex a partial list of contents, viz. ; 






I'm such a Little Tot. 


The Life-Boat. 






Willie's Breeches. 


Kew England's Dead. 






A Child's Troubles. 


The Arithmetic Lesson. 






Going to Bed. 


The Boy-King. 






Little Whimpy. 


The Mischievous Brier. 






The Little Angel. 


Ready for Duty. 






Stop, Stop, Pretty Water. 


The Captain's Daughter. 






A Housekeeper's Troubles. 


The First Snow-Fail. 






Wishing. 


Little Clary's Wish. 






Johnny the Stout. 


The Night Before Christmas. 






Frogs at School. 


. Hang up the Baby's Stocking. 






Old Sol in a Jingle. 


One Little Empty Stocking. 






]Mr. Nobody. 


King Christmas. 






Polly. 


The Nightingale and Glow- Worm. 






What the Birds Say. 


A Fable. 






The Queen in her Carriage is Pass- 


Daisy's Mistake. 






ing by. 


Two of Them. 






Our Darling. 


Pussy's Class. 






Baby is King. 


All the Children. 






Willie Winkie. 


Kaming the Baby. 






Selling the Baby. 
Planting Himself to Grow. 


What They Say. 






The Family Cat. 






What My Little Brother Thinks. 


Topsy-Turvy World. 






Deeds of Kindness. 


The Parson's Sociable. 






Buttercups and Daisies. 


John Bottlejohn. 






Gold-Locks and the Secret. 


Ten Little Injuns. 






Who Stole the Bird's Nest? 


The Kew Slate. 






Three Little IS^est-Birds. 


Black Spiders. 






Frightened Birds. 


The Owl and the Pussy-Cat. 






What the Sparrow Chirps. 


Trials of a Twin. 






Three in a Bed. 


The Dead Doll. 






Discontent. 


A Baby's Soliloquy. 






Contented John. 


A Telephone to Fairy-Land. 






In the Closet. 


Aunt Tabitha. 






The Homely Little Weaver. 


The Crow's Children, 






Making Hay. 


Victuals and Drink. 






Chickadee. 


The First Party. 






The Little Boy's Lament. 


Entertaining her Big Sister's Beau. 






The Way to Do it. 


Chickens. 






Little Chatterbox. 


Over in the Meadow. 






Old Ironsides. 


The Johnny-Cake. 






Lads on the Ladder. 








This collection, which is adapted to the youngest scholars, has been 






compiled with great care by Prof. Gilmore, whose well-known taste is a 






sufficient guarantee for the work. 






Beautifully printed and handsomely bound with an illuminated cover. 






1 Vol. 16m6. Price 50 cents. Sent by mail on receipt of price. 




PUBLISHED BY 




KEm^lT J^. -YOXJIsTG- Sz CO., 






13 Bromfield St., Boston. Mass. 











HEimY A'. YoTJE"G & Co., 

13 BROMFIELD STREET, BOSTON. 

PUSl<I^ai^^^, kud ©eklef^ in kU kirid^ of 
Juvenile Book^. 

JUST rUBLISHED, 

The Wooden Spoon 

OR, 

KICK HARDY IH COLLEGE, 

I Vol., i6mo. Price, ^1.50. 



This is the third volume of the famous 

Red Shanty Series, 

By PARK LUDLOW. 

The Series Complete gives, a very graphic description of 
New-England School and College Life. The other volumes 
are 

THE RED SHANTY BOYS, 

AND 

NICK HARDY; or, Once in Fun and Twice in Earnest 



These volumes sent by mail on receipt of ^1.50 each. 
Postage paid. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ||| 



NEW Bc0 022 204 595 2 

PUBLISHED BY 

HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., 

NO. 13 BROMFIELD ST., BOSTON, MASS. 



CHILDREN'S HOUR. 

By MRS. M. B. C. SLADE, Editor of " Good Times." 

Containing Dialo^^iies, Speeches, Motion Sonars, Tableaux, Charades, 

Blackboard Exercises, Juvenile Comedies, &c., for Pri- 

maiy Schools, Kindero^artens, and Juvenile 

Home Entertainments. 

1 irol. IGmo. Boards. Price, 50 cents. 



EXHIBITION DAYS. 

By MRS. M. B. C. SLADE, Author of *♦ Children's Hour.'' 

Containing Dialogues, Speeches, Tableaux, Charades, Blackboard 

Exercises, &c., adapted to Scholars in the Common^ 

Grammar, and High Schools. 

1 vol. 16ino. Boards. Price, 50 cents. 



National Kindergarten Songs and Plays. 

Written and collected by MRS. LOUISE POLLOCK, Principal of National 
Kindergarten Normal Institute, Washington, D. C. 

1 vol. IGmo. Boards. Price, cents. 



SUNDAY SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENTS. 

By MRS. M. B. C. SLADE, Author of ** Children's Hour," " Exhibition 
Days," &c. 

Containing Dialogues, Speeches, and all kinds of Exercises adapted 
to Sunday-school Concerts, Exhibitions, Anniversaries, &c. 

1 vol. 16ni6. Price, 50 cents. 



AMERICAN CHECKER PLAYER. 

Comprising Tr'entj-two Games, with Five Hundred and Thirty-four 
Variations, and Thirty-five Critical Positions. 

By CHAS. FRANCIS BARKER, Author of " World's Checker Book." 

1 vol, lOmo. Clotli. Price, 75 cents. 



022 204 595 2 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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